


The Hidden Diadem

by LinzRW



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, Female Friendship, Female Marauders (Harry Potter), First War with Voldemort, Hogwarts, Horcruxes, Male-Female Friendship, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mystery, Romance, Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 90,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinzRW/pseuds/LinzRW
Summary: She didn't want to die, so she took the deal that was offered to her. And that's how her story as Marlene McKinnon begins: armed with Ravenclaw's Diadem, burdened with knowledge of the book series, and guided by the snooty Helena Ravenclaw, she must save the McKinnon family from their terrible fate. Book-reader-in-marauder-era.
Relationships: Dorcas Meadowes/Original Character(s), Evan Rosier/Original Character(s), James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marlene McKinnon/Evan Rosier
Comments: 43
Kudos: 34





	1. The Fool Upright

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for clicking on my story! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I like to pretend that Cursed Child doesn't exist. I'm still in denial that it's considered canon. That being said, this story is based on book canon with some movie canon mixed in as I see fit. I have read all the books and seen all the movies numerous times, and things from extended canon I have researched on Pottermore and Harry Potter wikia. In places where the Harry Potter canon has gaps, I have filled in with my imagination.
> 
> I appreciate all comments. Ask me questions, tell me about incongruencies, inform me of typos, guess what's going to happen next, complain about my portrayal of the characters - I love all comments. You can comment on every chapter (much appreciated), you can comment on the last chapter, you can comment on only the exciting chapters, but please comment!
> 
> This is my first time posting a story on AO3. I am a little unfamiliar with the tagging system, so let me know if I should add any warnings, change the rating, or added more or less tags. 
> 
> Thank you for any comments! I hope you enjoy the story!

**PART ONE: IN VITAM**

* * *

**Chapter I: The Fool Upright**

Even years later, I could not forget the accident. The details surrounding it have become hazy, of course. I'd had a night on the piss with my friends, and the rain had been coming down in buckets as I drove home guttered. My memory of those events was a blur of alcohol and cursing. The parts I remembered with clarity were the lorry's headlights filling my vision, my foot missing the brakes, and the seat being pulled from underneath me. The cold rain fell on my face as my fingers dug into the rough road until the skin broke. And then, I remembered it all sinking away until only a desperate voice remained:

"Take it. Take it from me."

A female voice, husky and strong, spoke to me. I couldn't see to whom the voice belonged, but I could feel the person reaching out to me. There was no need to specify what "it" was; I instinctively understood that I was being offering life. I wouldn't die lying on the side of the road, my hands scratching at the asphalt as I clung to my sorry existence. Instead, I would have a different life. A new life. Her life.

Of course, I took the offer. I grabbed hold of the extended hand and let myself be dragged away from the world I had known.

I didn't understand what happened exactly, but suddenly, I was no longer outside, bleeding on the rain-soaked road. I sat on a cold, tile floor, facing a line of porcelain sinks. Exposed pipes ran up the walls to meet the arched, stone ceiling. To my left was a row of four wooden stalls, and to my right was an old-fashioned door that was bolted shut.

Slowly, it dawned on me: I was in the lavvy.

Whoever the person had been, the one who'd dragged me here and given me a second chance at life, had dropped me in the lavvy.

Well, not that I could complain. I should just be happy that I was alive.

I had been left sitting on the floor with my legs sprawled out in front of me and my back leaning against the stone wall of the lavvy. From what I could see, I wore black loafers with white socks, a black skirt with a pleat, and a dark gray sweater. It wasn't my usual style, but I couldn't afford be picky. A new life shouldn't be taken for granted. Next to my right knee lay a dark brown stick that had been fashioned with some sort of handle, and beside that was a bookbag and a rumpled black cloth that might have been some kind of clothing. Resting on the cloth was a silver tiara.

Frowning, I picked up the tiara. A bird of some sort had been etched into the silver; its head was the center of the crown and its wings formed the sides. A blue gemstone was embedded in the bird's chest. Weird. What kind of life had the person brought me to? Was I to be some kind of princess? I sure as hell hoped not. I wasn't princess material.

"Marlene, did you succeed?"

I jumped at the sharp voice that came from somewhere to my right. When I'd looked around the lavvy earlier, I definitely hadn't seen anyone else. But now, a thin, silvery woman—her hair curling past her shoulders, her long face eternally sad, her gown like something from centuries ago—stood over me. No, not stood… _hovered_. Her slippers were at least ten centimeters off the ground, and now that I looked properly, I could see the porcelain sinks through the woman's dress.

A ghost. She had to be a ghost.

"Looks like I died after all," I muttered as my throat tightened and a suffocating weight settled in my chest. I wasn't ready to be dead. There was still so much I hadn't done. Things I'd said I'd do once I got myself together. Things I kept putting off… I'd be a better person if I was allowed to live. No more driving on the piss. I'd even attend church on Sundays. Well, some Sundays.

Even as I vowed to become a better person, a wave of anger passed through me. How dare the disembodied voice lie to me. I'd gotten my hopes up, thinking that I'd get a second chance, and now it turned out death had caught me anyway.

"No." The ghost lowered herself so that it appeared she was crouching on the floor. If I looked carefully, however, I could see the places where the transparent dress passed through the tiles. A shiver ran down my spine, and I had to look away.

"No, you are not dead," said the ghost. Her voice was curious rather than earnest, as if she wasn't really trying to convince me but rather wanted to see how I'd react. "You have simply traded places."

 _Definitely dead_ , I thought. I was probably a ghost as well. I hadn't been the sort to believe in ghosts when I'd been alive, but I was willing to admit when I'd been wrong. Of course, there was the slight problem of my legs not being transparent, but maybe there were rules to the afterlife that I didn't know yet. Perhaps this was simply limbo, and at any moment, I going to be plunged into eternal darkness or the fiery pits of hell. I didn't know what came next. I didn't want to know. I wasn't ready to be dead.

"Marlene said you would be confused and that I should be patient," said the ghost. "I did not agree with her decision, of course. I thought she could find a way to save them on her own, but she insisted that it had to be you. She said that you knew things she did not—which is ridiculous, because she had the diadem."

"'Traded places'?" I repeated. The ghost's words only just began to register with me. "What do you mean 'traded places'?" Last I remembered, I was dying on the side of the road. Who hated their life enough that they'd want to die in my place?

"It was a spell," said the ghost. "I don't rightly know how she found it, but I suppose the diadem helped."

"Spell?" My gaze drifted down to the stick on the lavatory floor, and something in my brain clicked. It was a wand. A wand like they had in fairy tales or _Harry Potter_. "Marlene is a witch."

"Yes." The ghost seemed pleased that I had managed to figure that much out. "She found a spell that would pass through the Veil and allow her to trade places with you."

"Hold on." My brain finally started to kick into gear, and I needed some time to catch up to what the ghost was saying.

The ghost sighed and folded her arms across her chest. I took that to mean she'd wait.

The first thing I realized was that I wasn't a ghost or dreaming. My body was solid, and I could feel the cold floor on my bare legs in a way that dreams didn't allow. The tightness in my throat eased a little, and I took a deep breath. Of course, it was still possible that I was dead. There was a ghost talking to me, after all. The ghost seemed to know a lot about the witch who had brought me to the lavvy. For now, it seemed best to listen to what she had to say. Finally, I looked up and said. "I'm ready. Tell me everything from the beginning."

The ghost nodded. Her gray eyes were wide as she looked over me. "I had expected you to cry. Marlene told me that you might cry."

"I'm not the crying sort," I said. The last time I had cried, I'd been seven and had broken my arm after my older brother had knocked me out a tree. Besides, I didn't think I was allowed cry over my situation. The witch had made the choice quite clear: I could die on the side of the road, or I could take the life she offered. I took the life. I had no right to complain now about what that life entailed.

"Good," said the ghost. "I dislike tears." She stood up then, towering over me. The ghost kept her feet on the ground, perhaps trying to make me feel a little more comfortable by being less ghost-like. She then ruined any chance of being thought considerate by sticking her nose in the air and, in haughty tones, saying, "I am Helena Ravenclaw, the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower. My mother, Rowena Ravenclaw, was an exceptionally gifted witch, and one of the founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—the school whose lavatory in which you now sit."

My jaw dropped. Witches. Ravenclaw. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The words came right out of the _Harry Potter_ books. But no, what the ghost was saying was impossible. There was no way I was sitting in a Hogwarts lavvy talking to Helena Ravenclaw after a witch saved me from death. No way. This had to be some kind of joke.

Helena, however, ignored my shock and continued speaking, "Over eight hundred years ago, my mother made a diadem with the power to give its wearer incredible intelligence. My mother wore it during her studies and became the greatest witch of her age." She glanced at me. "I was jealous of her and stole it. In the process of hiding the diadem, I was killed and the diadem was lost." She spoke quickly and curtly, making it clear that no questions were to be asked about this part of the tale. She had told the basics and that was all.

However, it didn't matter that she withheld the full story, because I had read all seven _Harry Potter_ books, and I knew the details that had been left out. After the diadem had been stolen, Helena's mother had fallen ill and sent the Bloody Baron to bring back her daughter. The Baron, who had been in love with Helena, tracked her to Albania. When Helena resisted returning, the Baron killed her in a rage, and after seeing what he'd done to his beloved, the Baron killed himself. Now, they both walked the halls of Hogwarts as ghosts.

"I do not know how," said Helena, "but the diadem found its way back to Hogwarts. By way of a room that comes and goes as one has need of it."

"The Room of Requirement."

I hadn't thought it possible for a ghost to look surprised, but Helena certainly did. She opened her mouth once and then snapped it shut. Finally, she muttered, "Yes, Marlene told me that you would know things." Drawing herself to her full height, Helena said, "Marlene found the Room by accident last year. She walked alone through one of the corridors when a door appeared before her eyes that she had not seen before."

"What did she need?" I asked. None of this was in the books. The diadem was supposed to remain in the Room of Requirement until the Battle of Hogwarts. The ghost had gone off-script, and the story she told became less and less believable with each word. Which was saying something, because I found it to be pretty unbelievable to begin with.

"She did not know at the time," said Helena, "and if she did discover the reason, she chose not to share it with me. Though Marlene did tell me that she found in the Room what she did not then know she needed: the diadem." Helena looked down at me, eyes narrowed. "Pay attention. Marlene shared her story so that I might impart this knowledge to you."

I grimaced. "I'm listening."

"Marlene couldn't resist wearing the diadem. She needed it. She was no Ravenclaw." Helena added the last part as an afterthought. "The diadem gave her incredible intelligence and a thirst for knowledge. She spent endless hours reading, learning the history of the world and of the magic within it. She spent her sixth year at Hogwarts learning things beyond what I could comprehend. When the end of term came, she could not bear to part with my mother's diadem, so she brought it home with her. She spent the summer with her family in Aberdeenshire. During the day, she would be normal, fool Marlene, and then at night, she would put on the diadem and become brilliant, a mind beyond the headmaster himself."

"Albus Dumbledore?" I guessed.

Helena nodded. She watched me carefully, her gray eyes filled with a sort of hunger. She spoke of Marlene's desire for knowledge, but I had the feeling Marlene's desire paled in comparison to Helena's.

"During her studies, she became interested in the Veil. I did not know of it, at first, but she called it the door to death and through death, the door to others, for in death we are all united. She spoke of it fervently, telling me that the Veil is kept in the Department of Mysteries, one secret that has yet to be understood by even the brightest wizards. Even with the diadem, Marlene said, she understood only a fraction of its power. But after discovering it in her studies, Marlene wanted to see the door to death for herself. And so, she planned. One day, she accompanied her father to the Ministry of Magic, and when the opportunity arose, Marlene slipped away, put on the diadem, which she had transfigured into a hat, and ventured into the Department of Mysteries."

All of this was beyond me. None of the ghost's story had been in the _Harry Potter_ books. Of course, I knew the terms the ghost used. I knew the Department of Mysteries where the Prophecy had been stored and the Veil where Sirius Black had died, but I knew nothing about Marlene finding Ravenclaw's diadem. I glanced down at the silver crown that rested on the floor beside my knee. So far, Helena had said nothing of the dark secret that lay within.

"She told me that she saw many wonders in the Department of Mysteries," said Helena, "but none so wonderful as the Veil. For in the depths of the doorway to death, she saw the shadows of people. She saw those who had died, those who were about to die, and those whose deaths were tied to hers." Helena paused for dramatic effect. "And as she looked deeper into the Veil, she saw the lights of the living. Not the living in her world, but in other worlds, tied to this one through the ever-growing shadow of death. Then, bound to her by threads of both light and darkness, she found you."

"Me?"

"You do not know why the Veil revealed you to Marlene," said Helena, "because you have not looked in a mirror yet."

"Why should I look in a mirror?" I asked.

Helena only gestured towards the porcelain sinks.

I didn't understand why Helena was making such a big fuss about the mirrors. However, it seemed she wouldn't continue with her story until I looked, so I got to my feet and begrudgingly made my way over to the sinks. In the spotless glass of the mirror, I saw my reflection. I was myself. The same heart-shaped face, same brown eyes, same pointed nose, same brown hair with the slightest hint of red—though currently, my hair was pulled back into a thick plait whereas I usually wore it loose. The one thing that did throw me off was the uniform. I'd seen the skirt and sweater when sitting down, but before now, I hadn't noticed the yellow and black tie.

"I'm...a Hufflepuff?"

"Oh, I know," said Helena. "Tragic house, in my opinion, but Marlene was quite fond of it. There's unfortunately nothing we can do about that, so you will have to learn to be hardworking, patient, and kind."

I had done the _Pottermore_ sorting quiz last summer with my friends. I remembered laughing at some of the questions like "Black or white?" and "Which would you save—Merlin's book, student records, or the dragon pox cure?" Really, I'd thought, who in their right mind would save the student records? In the end, the house I'd gotten was Slytherin. I didn't know how reliable the _Pottermore_ quiz had been, but I did know that Slytherin was supposed to be the exact opposite of Hufflepuff.

"Well?" Helena hovered behind me, her gray eyes watching expectantly.

I spared one more glance at the mirror. "It's me."

"No," said Helena with a smug smile. "That is Marlene."

The reflection in the mirror was not Marlene. The face might have been a little fuller, but it definitely belonged to me.

"Through the Veil, you were bound to Marlene in both light and shadow," said Helena. "You, she said, are another version of her from another version of this world. The same, and not the same. Forever linked in life and death."

This story had reached a whole new level of ridiculous. Now, this ghost was trying to convince me that my doppelganger had dragged me into a different world to be her replacement. As if I was fool enough to believe that.

"There were others too, Marlene told me," continued Helena. She either didn't notice my disbelief or chose to ignore it. "Some older, some younger, all in different worlds. But you stood out, she said, because you knew about Potter. By watching you, she learned that books existed in your world that foretold the future of ours. That made you her favorite. That, and you were the closest to her age."

"Closest to her age?"

"You were only a year older."

Only a year older? Then, Marlene was a seventeen-year-old witch who had managed to save me from the clutches of death. I knew Marlene supposedly had the help of a magical diadem, but the ghost could have at least come up with a more plausible story.

"She said there were some versions of her who were sixty and seventy. Some didn't speak English, and others married with children." Helena's eyes were glassy as she thought of the endless worlds Marlene had told her about. "She took a piece of the Veil with her, so she could watch you. And the others, of course, but mainly you. She watched, and she planned."

I looked up at the ghost and asked, in a sharper voice than I'd intended, "And did Marlene think it'd be fun to just drag me into this world for the hell of it?"

Helena frowned. "No. See, I do not rightly know. When Marlene came back to school for her seventh year, she was obsessed. I did not know any of this until only recently. Marlene came to find me one night, just a week into the new term, and she started rambling to me about finding my mother's diadem. I do not know how she figured out that I was Helena Ravenclaw—for here, I am known only as the Gray Lady—but she without doubt knew who I was, and she wanted my help." A shadow crossed over Helena's silvery face. She grew quiet for a moment, and I stared, waiting for her to admit that Tom Riddle had figured out the truth as well.

Surely, Helena knew. If Marlene had worn the diadem and figured out so much, surely she knew what the diadem contained and had told the ghost. But Helena admitted no such thing, and she continued talking in the same snobbish tone.

"Almost in hysterics, Marlene told me that through the Veil, not only had she discovered many worlds, but she had learned some of the future. She could not save 'them', she told me. I tried to tell her that with my mother's diadem, she could change the future, but she insisted that she was not the right person—she needed you to save 'them'. I did not know who 'them' referred to, and she did not tell me until she had calmed down. She said, 'The girl in the Veil who has read those books, she will know what to do.' She told me she knew a spell, using the piece of the Veil she had taken with her, that would allow her to trade places with you."

I didn't care how many premonitions of the future the diadem had supposedly revealed; no one in their right mind would want to trade places with me.

"She told me what to tell you," said Helena. "Then, after a few days of preparation, she brought me here to watch her cast the spell. If it worked, she said, then I should tell you this: 'You are now Marlene McKinnon, and you must save your family.'"

The ghost was off her head. That was obvious enough. I supposed it was a side-effect of being dead. Most likely, I had died and gone to some sort of afterlife, and somehow knowing that I was a Potter fan, the ghost was having a laugh pretending Hogwarts was a real place.

I caught sight of my face in the mirror again. It was more obvious now, of course, that it wasn't me. The face was fuller, and the eyebrows weren't plucked. While the tall height was the same, I had been all skin and bones, whereas this body had more muscle and seemed to belong to an athlete. The reflection was me, but also not me, and for a second, I wondered if the ghost's story was true.

No. That was impossible.

"Aye right." I turned to the ghost with a half-smile half-grimace. "Well, that must have taken a lot of time to come up with. Really creative. Hell of a good job. But seriously, where am I, and how the hell did I get here?"

The ghost sighed. "I had hoped you would believe me right away. Marlene told me to be patient with you, but patience has never been my strength." She gave a little sniff and then said, "You are now Marlene McKinnon, and if you do not believe me, pick up that wand and give it a wave."

I stared, and then slowly my eyes slid to the dark brown stick sitting on the floor beside the diadem. Marlene's wand. It had to be Marlene's wand. I didn't want to pick it up. If I did and magic actually happened then I would be forced to consider that the ghost hadn't invented the whole story.

I took a deep, shaking breath. When I'd been lying on the side of the road, I'd known that my life was ending and that death was the only thing that waited for me. Marlene had saved me from that. She'd offered me her life, and I'd accepted. In accepting, I'd agreed to endure whatever kind of life Marlene led. I hadn't cared what I'd have to do to survive, I'd only known that I hadn't wanted to die. If this new life meant being a seventeen-year-old Hufflepuff at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, well, so be it.

I leaned forward and picked the wand off the lavvy floor. I pointed it at the diadem and said the one spell that everyone who'd read _Harry Potter_ knew off the top of their head. Swish and flick. " _Wingardium leviosa._ "

Nothing happened.

It was a lie. It was all a lie, and I felt silly for believing it.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," snapped Helena. "You're saying it wrong. It's 'wing-gar-dee-um', not 'wing-ar-dee-um'. Good thing Marlene was not in Ravenclaw, or you would be exposed in a heartbeat."

"Well, it's not like I've ever done magic before," I muttered. Feeling even sillier, I raised the wand and tried again, copying Helena's pronunciation. " _Wingardium leviosa_."

The diadem lifted into the air.

I dropped the wand. The diadem fell to the ground with a clang.

"Watch it!" cried Helena. "That is my mother's diadem, you know."

I didn't care about Helena's whining. I could only stare as the wand rolled across the lavvy floor and then came to a stop. I let the feeling of despair wash over me. I'd done magic. It hadn't been faked. No trick of the light or suspended wires. I'd felt the magic flowing through me like summer's breeze. I'd willed it to lift the diadem into the air, and it had. And when I'd been surprised, I'd broken the flow of magic and the diadem had come crashing down. I'd done magic. I was a witch. What had Helena said? _You are now Marlene McKinnon, and you must save your family_.

I leaned back against the bathroom wall and slowly sank to the floor. I had promised to accept any life that Marlene gave to me as long as it was a life. I would've been a beggar, I would've been an accountant, I would've been an international spy—but a witch in a different world?

"The wand is black walnut and unicorn," said Helena. She didn't seem to notice or care that I was in the middle of wallowing. "I forget how many centimeters. But Marlene told me to tell you that. She also said to tell you to keep the diadem. You will need it in order to catch up to the seventh-year coursework, and you will probably need it to save her family. But I suppose it is your choice how you go about that. She did say you would know what to do."

Marlene McKinnon was barely side character in the _Harry Potter_ series, one that I remembered almost nothing about. I only recalled the name because one of my friends had shipped Marlene with Sirius Black. What else was there to know? Marlene had been in the Order of the Phoenix, she had been friends with Lily Evans, and she had died in the First Wizarding War. Great. Just fucking great.

But if Marlene McKinnon died in the First Wizarding War, then…

I tipped my head back and stared up at the silvery ghost. Helena wore a curious expression on her long face.

"What is today's date?" I asked.

"The 18th of September, 1977. It is three o'clock in the morning, if you want to know."

Oh God, not only had I been dragged into the world of _Harry Potter_ , I had been dragged into a time I knew next to nothing about. Had Marlene not known that the _Harry Potter_ books took place in the 1990s? Had she not known that most of my knowledge was of events that occurred well over ten years from now? How was I supposed to save Marlene's family when all I knew about 1977 Hogwarts was that James Potter and Lily Potter were Head Boy and Head Girl, and they would fall in love and get married?

Well, I also knew that sometime after Hogwarts, Peter Pettigrew would betray the Order of the Phoenix and, with the help of Snape, set Voldemort on the Potters. Perhaps— _perhaps_ —if Marlene had asked, I could have done something about that. But no. Marlene McKinnon, who was barely a side character, wanted me to save her family. No way. Impossible.

I supposed that I didn't _have_ to save Marlene's family. I could pretend to be ignorant of the future like everyone else. As long as I cried and looked devastated at the news of my family's deaths, no one would be suspicious. And it wasn't like Marlene was here to hold me to my promise. Marlene had only left behind a ghost to watch over me, and it didn't seem like the ghost cared all that much if Marlene's family was saved or not. It would be easy, so easy, to just let it all go…

However, I owed Marlene for saving me. That was the deal. A life for a life. I had been called many things, but an ungrateful traitor I was not. I owed Marlene a debt, and if that debt had to be repaid by saving her family, then so be it.

"Have you truly read those books?" asked Helena softly, her thin lips pulled into a frown.

"Yes. All seven of them."

"Then you must know what is going to happen in our world?" asked Helena eagerly.

"I know some things," I murmured. "But not this. Marlene finding the diadem was never in the books."

My gaze landed on the diadem at my feet. The silver bird, which must be an eagle, was staring up at me through small, pinprick eyes. The crown was a relic of Rowena Ravenclaw, a diadem that gave the wearer incredible intelligence. It was the diadem that had brought me here; through its knowledge, Marlene had discovered the Veil and her doppelgangers, she had discovered the future, and she had discovered how to trade places. She had planned everything. It was odd, however, that Helena had not yet mentioned how the diadem contained a piece of Voldemort's soul.

Perhaps Helena didn't know. After all, she'd told me that she didn't know how the diadem had gotten from her hiding spot in Albania to the Room of Requirement. Of course, it was possible that she was lying, but at the moment, I had no choice but to take Helena's words as truth. Helena didn't know that the diadem was a horcrux, and she'd repeated to me everything Marlene had told her. Then, the question was, had Marlene lied to Helena? She was the one who'd been wearing the diadem all summer. Had she known it was a horcrux? Had the fragment of Voldemort's soul spoken to her as his diary had spoken to Ginny Weasley? I didn't know. I would probably never know, because Marlene McKinnon had traded places with me and was probably now dead in a hospital in Aberdeenshire.

So where to go from here?

I couldn't stay in the lavvy forever. I would have to go out there and act like Marlene McKinnon, seventh-year Hufflepuff…even though I couldn't use any magic beyond _wingardium leviosa_ , I had no idea how to get around Hogwarts or where the Hufflepuff common room was, I didn't know what classes Marlene was taking or who she was friends with, and I was going to make a terrible Hufflepuff.

"Well, aye right then." I got to my feet, ignoring the slight trembling in my hands. I was going to do this. I wasn't entirely certain who I was supposed to save or how I was supposed to go about it, or why exactly Marlene chose me, but I was going to do my best. A promise was a promise, and I owed Marlene for this second chance at life.

I picked up the bookbag and slipped the diadem inside. Then, I inspected the rumpled, black cloth that lay on the floor. It was Marlene's robes, the yellow and black Hufflepuff badge gleaming on the chest. As I slipped the robes on over the uniform, something fell onto the lavvy floor with a clang. I glanced down and saw what looked to be a shard of glass, about the length of my index finger.

"The Veil," said Helena.

I didn't understand how a piece of veil could resemble glass. Curious, I crouched down next to it and picked up the shard.

Or, at least, that's what I intended to do.

The moment my skin touched the glass, hot pain seared through my hand, as if I'd grabbed fire. I dropped the shard back onto the floor. I thought a saw a flash of white on the surface of the glass, but moments later, I was certain I'd imagined it.

"What happened?" asked Helena eagerly. "Did it hurt you?"

"No." I examined my hand, but there were no markings to show what had just happened.

I stared down at the piece of the Veil. Had it burned Marlene like this too? The door way to death, she'd called the Veil. The shard had been part of the spell to switch places. Briefly, I wondered if the shard could help me create a spell to return to my old life. But no, I quickly reminded myself, there was nothing left of me in that world to go back to.

With a sigh, ignoring the burning sensation on my fingers, I picked up the shard and tossed into Marlene's bookbag. When I looked up, I saw that Helena had been watching me with an inscrutable expression.

"Do you know how to get around the castle?" asked Helena. "Was that in your books?"

"Some things were," I said, getting to my feet. "Not that." I glanced over at the ghost. "I don't suppose Marlene told you how to get into the Hufflepuff common room?"

"Of course, she did," said Helena.

I could feel the strap of the bookbag digging into my shoulder. The diadem rested inside, the edge of the crown digging into my hip. To think, a piece of the door to death and a piece of Voldemort's soul all in this bookbag. I shook my head. Nothing good would come of Ravenclaw's diadem. I knew that now as certain as I knew… Well, there wasn't much I was certain of anymore. I wasn't even certain who I was anymore.

I made my way across the lavvy, and Helena followed, her slippers drifting above the floor. Under her breath, Helena recited everything she'd been told. "She said you must tap the barrel in middle of the second row in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff'. The seventh-year girls' common room is up the left staircase and two doors down. Her bed is the one furthest from the door. Your time table is in the drawer beside her bed. Oh, she spoke with a Scottish accent as well so you won't need to change that…"

No, I knew who I was. I was Marlene McKinnon.

And with that thought, I opened the lavvy doors and stepped out into the corridor beyond.


	2. Page of Swords Reversed

**PART ONE: IN VITAM**

* * *

**Chapter II: Page of Swords Reversed**

"Where were you last night?"

I had snuck into the dormitory well after hours when all of the other seventh-year girls had been asleep. At the time, I'd been relieved, believing I had avoided their questions, but of course, I should've known better.

The one who spoke now was a curvy girl with a long face and dark skin. Her tight, black curls were held back with a yellow scarf that matched the Hufflepuff colors in her uniform. She stared at me, who still lay in my four-poster bed, spread out beneath the covers. As I pulled the covers back, I wondered if what I was doing was out of character—perhaps the real Marlene was an early riser.

"I, uh, fell asleep in the lavvy." Always tell the truth, or as close to the truth as one could manage. That's what my da had told me once. All it took was for one person to see through a lie that I had been in the library or out on the grounds, and then I'd have suspicious looks following me everywhere.

My throat tightened at the memory of my da. I wondered if he would cry when he learned that his only daughter was dead. Probably not.

"Oh, ew," said a tall girl with feathered, blonde hair. "Who falls asleep in the loo?"

"Me." I tried to smile like a nice Hufflepuff, but it probably came out as if I was baring my teeth at her. Not a good start. "Sorry," I said as I rolled out of bed. "I'm a bit crabby this morn."

"You slept in today," said the blonde girl.

"Tired," I said. "Sleeping in the lavvy is not comfortable."

She laughed, shot me a curious glance, and said, "I'd imagine not."

I went over to the dresser beside my bed and started rummaging through it. The top drawer was knickers and bras. The next drawer down was muggle clothing—embroidered jeans, low-cut t-shirts, crop tops, tennis shorts. I cringed at the 70s fashion choices, knowing that I was doomed to dated fashion for however long I lived as Marlene McKinnon. The third drawer had the Hogwarts uniforms. There were five different versions of the same skirt, the same sweater, and the same white blouse. I never thought I'd wear a uniform again after finishing secondary school, but here I was, donning the black and gray outfit and adding the Hufflepuff colors. I found my robes on a hanger in the closet alongside a set dress robes, a handful sundresses, and what looked to be Quidditch gear. I hoped to God that I wouldn't have to play Quidditch.

After rummaging through the nightstand, I found a toiletry bag.

"Do you want me to wait for you?" asked the black-haired girl.

"Yeah, thanks," I said. As I slipped out the door, I noticed the surprised expression on the girl's face and I wondered if I'd said something wrong.

I took a guess that the lavvy was down the hall and found the words WC marking the room that contained the communal showers and toilets. Once I'd brushed my teeth and washed my face, I examined my new self the mirror. We really did look exactly the same. What had Helena called us? Different versions of each other. I was one year older than the real Marlene. Though, of course, Marlene had been born 6 December, 1959 (or so Helena had told me during our walk to the Hufflepuff dormitory last night), and I had been born 16 May, 1999. Forty years apart and in different worlds, but we looked the exact same.

One small girl who was probably a first or second year gave me a strange look, and I realized I'd been staring in the mirror too long. I pulled my hair back and braided it, mimicking the hairstyle I'd had last night. If the real Marlene had liked to wear her hair in a braid, then that was how I would wear it from now on. The fewer changes I could make, the less likely I was to be discovered. Then, with a smile at the scrawny girl, I headed back to my room. It was time to start the first day of my new life.

The seventh-year girls' dorm had only four beds. Just as Helena had told me, Marlene's bed was the one furthest from the door. Above the bed was a poster of some Quidditch player in a black uniform and several pictures of Marlene with her friends. I hadn't had a spare moment to look over the pictures yet, but it seemed like the girl with frizzy black hair was one of Marlene's good friends along with a red-haired girl and a small girl with a bob cut.

One bed, the one belonging to the blonde, was surrounded by magazine cutouts of what looked to be a wizard band. Her pillowcases and sheets had been switched from the standard white to a shade of pastel pink. I was glad she'd left already, so she missed the face I pulled as I looked over the lace trimming on her pillowcases.

The next bed, the one closest to the door, belonged to a girl I hadn't met yet. The wall behind the headboard hosted a collage of pencil drawings and watercolor paintings. It seemed she was an artist, and she loved drawing animals. There were the regular cats, owls, butterflies, and then there were the magical creatures: dragons, phoenixes, and what I guessed was a hippogriff.

The black-haired girl sat on the bed closest to mine. She hadn't decorated her walls and kept only a stack of textbooks on her nightstand. She had a book open in her lap, reading as she waited for me. I squinted at the book and could make out the words at the top of the page "A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration: Chapter 3: Human Transfiguration". Oh hell, I hoped I wasn't in that class.

"You ready?" the girl asked, looking up from her textbook.

"In a moment." I stumbled around my bed to the nightstand and opened the top drawer. Just like Helena had told me, a timetable had been left there. Keeping my back to the girl so she couldn't see what I was doing, I pulled the carefully folded piece of parchment out and opened it. I prayed that Marlene had signed up to take easy classes like Muggle Studies, but to my horror, I saw that my first class for the day was Potions. Marlene, that cow, had been taking NEWT-level Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Divination, and Ancient Runes. Who even took NEWT-level Divination? Helena had led me to believe Marlene was of average intelligence. But apparently Helena Ravenclaw's standards for intelligence were different than everybody else's, because Marlene McKinnon had managed to scrape together at least seven OWLs.

"Did you finish your Charms essay?" asked the girl, still sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Uh, yeah." There was a Charms essay? What in the hell was I supposed to do about that? Did Marlene expect me to tell Professor Flitwick—or whoever was the Charms professor in 1977—that I hadn't done my homework? Was I going to spend my first day as Marlene McKinnon getting detention in every fucking class?

It was then, by pure luck, that I noticed the roll of parchment in the nightstand drawer. I could hear the black-haired girl putting her Transfiguration textbook away, so while she was occupied, I snatched the roll of parchment out of the drawer and shoved it into the pocket of my robe.

"You ready?" she asked.

"Yeah." I grabbed the bookbag from the foot of my bed and slung it over my shoulder. When I placed my hand on top of it, I could feel the sharp edges of Ravenclaw's diadem through the fabric. It probably wasn't wisest to carry a piece of Voldemort's soul with me to breakfast, but leaving it alone in the dorm room seemed like a worse decision.

I followed the girl down a set of stairs to the common room. I'd seen the common room last night after Helena had escorted me to the stack of barrels that marked the entrance to the Hufflepuff dormitory. I'd followed Helena's instructions to tap the barrel, and to my surprise, it had actually worked. The wooden barrel opened, revealing a hole large enough for me to step into and a staircase leading down to the Hufflepuff Basement.

One of my friends, the one who was a true _Harry Potter_ nerd, had once mentioned to me that Hufflepuff had the best common room. At the time, I hadn't cared about comparing the comfort-levels of fictional common rooms, but now, I saw that my friend had been right. Despite being in the basement, the common room was well lit and filled with flowers and plants. The walls had been decorated with paintings of landscapes to open up the room, and everything was either bronze, yellow, or black in color. The armchairs and couches were all soft and squishy, focusing on comfort rather than appearance, and standing beside the main fireplace was a bronze statue of a badger, his right paw extended as if wanting to shake one's hand. If there was one benefit to being a Hufflepuff, it was the common room. That, and being close to the kitchens.

There weren't words to express my gratitude to the black-haired girl for staying behind. If she hadn't led the way to the Great Hall, I never would've found it. Not because the Great Hall was hidden, but because Hogwarts was bloody difficult to navigate. The people in the paintings often moved, so I couldn't use those as reference. Sometimes doors didn't feel like being in the same place and shifted down the corridor. It was dizzying and confusing, and we didn't even have to use stairs to get to the Great Hall. I was already dreading having to find my classes.

"Do you know where Jenn got off to this morning?" asked the girl.

I shook my head. I guessed Jenn was the missing dormmate, the one with the animal drawings over her bed.

"She probably forgot to do her Transfiguration homework." As she spoke, the girl's accent starting coming through, dropping the h's at the beginning of words. "McGonagall will have her head if she doesn't turn it in again. I can't believe that girl got an O on her Transfiguration OWL."

I fought back a groan. I was about to be on McGonagall's shit list for not turning in homework. Transfiguration was my second class of the day according to the timetable.

My silence must have thrown the girl off, and she gave me a sideways glance. I remembered the odd look she'd given me when I'd wanted her to wait, and I felt the panic started to rise in my throat. It hadn't even been half a day and someone was already wary of my behavior. Searching for something to say, I settled on, "Well, we all have to have a best class."

The girl let out a sigh. "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just jealous, that's all. I worked so hard and barely scraped an E."

Marlene must have at least gotten an E in Transfiguration, because I remembered that being the requirement for taking NEWT-level. I hoped the real Marlene had struggled to get that grade because otherwise my disastrous magic was going to raise some eyebrows.

The girl glanced at me again. "Are you all right?"

Half-truths were always the best answer. I rubbed my nose and said, "Yeah. Just a bit tired. One of those days."

I noticed, as we walked down one of the ground floor corridors, something silver in the corner of my vision. When I looked to my left, I could see the dark gray eyes of Helena Ravenclaw watching me. Helena drifted, half-hidden behind a suit of armor. Her long face looked even more sorrowful than it had last night in the lavatory.

The black-haired girl must have caught where I was looking, because she said, "Is the Gray Lady following you again? Should we talk to Professor Chen about controlling his house ghost?"

"No," I said quickly. "I don't want to bother Professor Chen, and besides, the Gray Lady is harmless enough. Now, if the Bloody Baron was stalking me, then I'd worry."

The girl shuddered. "I hear he gives even the Slytherins nightmares."

So it seemed that Helena had been following Marlene around the castle for some time before I'd come here. Of course, that made sense if Marlene had told Helena she was in possession of Ravenclaw's diadem. Helena had stolen the diadem from her mother, and even if it was of no use to her in death, the object no doubt still fascinated her. Marlene seemed to have been some sort of observation study to Helena, and now I had taken Marlene's place.

"Ghosts are strange," I muttered.

The girl gave me another sideways look, but by that time, we'd arrived outside the giant double doors of the Great Hall, and any questions she might have asked were interrupted when a warm voice called out to us.

"Dorcas! Marlene!"

I turned to see who had spoken and found myself facing the beautiful red-haired girl from the photos on Marlene's wall. She was older now, of course, probably a seventh year as well and, judging by her red and gold tie, a Gryffindor.

"Morning, Lily," said the black-haired girl, whose name must be Dorcas.

My gaze landed on the Head Girl badge that was pinned to the robes beside the Gryffindor one, and I fought the urge to groan. Lily Potter. Actually, she would be Lily Evans right now. One of the few things I remembered from the books was that Lily had been devastated by the deaths of the McKinnons. Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon were friends. Which meant I was going to have to be friends with Lily as well. I couldn't decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

"How were Head Girl duties with Potter last night?" asked Dorcas with a knowing look.

Lily scrunched up her nose. "He threatened to hex Rosier again."

"What was Rosier doing this time?"

"Nothing for once," said Lily. "Potter just felt like hexing him. I mean, at least Potter didn't actually hex him. But it's the thought that counts."

I figured now was a good a time as any to ask a question I'd had since reading the fifth _Harry Potter_ book for the first time. With a dramatic sigh, I asked, "Why did Dumbledore even make Potter the Head Boy?"

Lily blinked in surprise, as if she hadn't expected me to speak, then quickly recovering, she said, "I suppose it's because of what happened in Hogsmeade last year." Her gaze darkened, which meant that nothing good had happened in Hogsmeade last year. But then, she shook the shadow away and said, "You seem to be feeling a lot better, Marlene."

"Am I?" I bit the insides of my cheeks. My voice had come out too high, too unnatural.

"You've, uh…" Lily and Dorcas exchanged glances, and then Lily said, "You've just been a little out of it ever since we got back from summer holidays. And, you know, last week you barely spoke to us."

"Uh…" The strap of my bookbag dug into my shoulder, while my thumb traced the ridge of the diadem through the bag. "Sorry. I've been…preoccupied." I took a stab in dark and hoped it worked. "What with the war going on and all…" I looked down at the ground, trying to look as sad as possible. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, Marlene." Before I knew it, Lily had pulled me into a tight hug. "It's not easy for any of us. But remember we're here for you if you ever need to talk."

I breathed a sigh of relief as I hugged Lily back. Then, I stepped away and gave them my best smile. "Thanks."

"You can always talk to us rather than keep it bottled up," said Dorcas.

"Yeah," I said. "You're right." Though, of course, I had no intention of sharing my current problems with them. I could only imagine the looks on their faces if I told them the truth. They'd probably cart me off to St. Mungo's faster than I could say "horcrux".

"I'm starving," said Lily, starting towards the Great Hall.

Dorcas moved to follow her. I could feel the heavy eyes of Helena Ravenclaw on me, and I didn't budge a centimeter as I said, "You go on ahead. I need to use the lavvy."

Dorcas paused, glanced at Lily, and then said to me, "I'll come with you."

I silently cursed girls' need to go to the lavvy together. When I went out to get guttered with my friends, I was more than happy to travel in a pack, but right then, I needed to be alone. I gave them a thin smile and said, "No, you go on. I'll catch up."

"But the Slytherins…" said Dorcas. "Remember what happened to Mary?"

Obviously, I hadn't a clue what happened to Mary, but I nodded anyway. "I'll be fine." I wouldn't be. If any Slytherin-wannabe-Death-Eater attacked me, I had no magic to defend myself (unless, somehow, _wingardium leviosa_ was a good defensive spell) and I doubted they'd take too kindly if I threw away my wand and punched one of them.

Lily hesitated and then said, "We'll be sitting at the Gryffindor table today."

I nodded even though I had no idea which table belonged to Gryffindor. Then, I turned and started down the corridor in the direction Dorcas and I had come from.

In a cautious voice, Dorcas said, "The loo's the other way."

Oh fuck.

I spun around and laughed as if this was the funniest thing that had happened to me in a week (which, by the sound of how Marlene had been acting, wasn't exactly wrong). "God," I said, "I've been so out of it this morn." And, before Lily and Dorcas could say anything more, I fled in the opposite direction.

I walked until they were out of sight. Then, I turned the first corner I came across and collapsed against the stone wall. My heart pounded in my chest, the sound filling my head and ears until nothing else existed. I closed my eyes and tried to stop the world from spinning out of place.

This had been the most stressful morning of my life. Not even taking the GCE could compare. Everything I said felt as though it would give me away. Any second, Lily was going to accuse me of taking Polyjuice Potion. There's no way they bought it. There was no way I was anything like the real Marlene McKinnon. That I said "fuck" far too often should've given it away. That I had to look through all the dresser drawers to find her uniform should've given it away. That I didn't know where the lavvy was should've given it away. It was so fucking obvious that I wasn't Marlene McKinnon! Why weren't professors—or hell, aurors—swooping in to take me out of Hogwarts already?

No, it seemed Lily and Dorcas believed me, though I had no idea how. Well, from the sound of it, Marlene had been acting with increasing strangeness for almost a month, leading up to her decision to trade places with me. Perhaps, in some odd way, that was what saved me. Lily and Dorcas were just so relieved that Marlene was longer isolated herself, refusing to speak to them, that they didn't mind that she now swore every other word and had a tendency to get lost.

But someone would figure it out. There was no way everyone was just going to accept the sudden changes in Marlene McKinnon, not in a world where magic existed that could turn one person into another or force someone to act as a puppet. Someone would grow suspicious, and I was going to have to find a way to properly convince people that I was the real thing. Even though I wasn't. I was just some cow the real Marlene had decided to trade places with.

"You look as though you have had a trying morning."

The familiar voice caused me to open my eyes. Helena hovered in front of me, her gray eyes wide and unblinking. On the other side of the corridor, a blonde woman in one of the paintings watched us curiously. I hadn't been in Hogwarts long, but in my gut, I knew that as soon as I left her earshot, the woman would leave the painting and spread word of whatever she overheard.

I took a deep breath. Time to put the pieces back together. Pushing off the wall, I stood in front of Helena and said, "Just the ghost I needed. Where's the nearest lavvy?"

Helena led the way, and it turned out that the girls' lavvy was only two doors down from where I'd been standing. The first thing I did was check the stalls to make sure there was no one else in there.

"Are you not going to lock the door?" asked Helena.

Unlike the lavvy where the trade had taken place, there was no bolt on the door. "I can't."

Helena gave an unladylike snort. "There is a spell for that."

"And you expect me to use it?"

"The incantation is _colloportus_ ," said Helena.

I knew exactly how this would end, but just to stop Helena's nagging, I pulled out the black walnut wand and pointed it at the door. I didn't know how I was supposed to move the wand, so I just waved it in a lazy circle and said, " _Colloportus_."

Obviously, nothing happened.

"Of course it is not going to work if you do it like that," scoffed Helena. "You have to at least believe it will work. Besides, the wand movement is completely wrong. You have to curve downwards and then flick." She demonstrated with her right hand.

With a sigh, I tried again. Still nothing.

"By Merlin, you might be duller than Marlene," said Helena.

"Marlene got at least seven OWLs. I hardly think she's stupid."

"She only got those OWLs because she studied for months," said Helena. "She's never gotten a spell right on the first try."

"And you have?"

"Of course."

The real challenge of my new life wouldn't be deceiving Marlene's friends or trying to save the McKinnon family. No, it would be putting up with snooty Helena Ravenclaw. Maybe I could send her down to the Chamber of Secrets, and the basilisk would petrify her for me.

Well, as my magic clearly needed some work, I would just have to hope no one needed to use the lavvy while I was talking to Helena. I sat on the edge of one of the sinks and pulled the roll of parchment out of my pocket.

"What is that?" asked Helena, peering over my shoulder. She stood in one of the sinks to see what was in my hands, and the porcelain sink cut her off at the waist.

"It was in the drawer along with the timet—" I broke off. The parchment was empty. I flipped it over in my hands, examining it from all sides, but there was no writing on it.

"Try your name," said Helena abruptly.

"What?"

"Marlene told me that if you were ever in doubt that you should say your name."

I stared at the ghost for a good moment, and then with a long sigh, I turned back to the parchment. Clearly, I pronounced my name to the parchment. Nothing happened.

Helena snorted. "Obviously, you have to tap it with your wand, you flobberworm."

I gritted my teeth and tried to hold back my temper. Petrification sounded like a very appealing solution to Helena Ravenclaw right then. I pulled the black walnut wand out of the pocket of my robes and tapped the parchment with the tip. Again, I said my name. Again, nothing happened.

Even Helena seemed stumped at this point. She drifted through the sink, staring at the lavatory floor. "Perhaps you must say your full name."

I tapped the parchment again and again, saying my name in various ways. Still, nothing happened. Perhaps I was mistaken in thinking Marlene had meant this for me. Perhaps it was simply a scrap piece of parchment she'd left in the drawer. But even as I began to fold up the paper and put it back in my pocket, a voice, husky and soothing, rung in my head, "You are now Marlene McKinnon, and you must save your family."

I lifted the wand again. Helena watched my every movement, studying me carefully as I tapped the parchment and said, "I am Marlene McKinnon."

At once, black ink began to appear, starting from the point where the tip of the wand touched the paper and spreading outwards. Curling words in what I assumed must have been Marlene's handwriting appeared before me forming a long note.

"There is nothing there," said Helena.

I ignored her and began to read the words visible only to me.

_To Marlene,_

_I am sorry to have put you in this situation, to have taken you from your old life and dragged you into this one. However, I was desperate. The world around me has begun falling apart, and you, who have read the books, are the only one who can change its course._

_Helena will explain most of this to you. While she is a bit strange, she has a good heart and wants to make amends for the choices she's made in the past. She will watch over you as best she can while you still remain in school._

_Now, I suppose I should begin with how I found you. I saw you in the Veil, you see, in the place that connects all worlds, for in death we are all one. I saw many things there. Things that I will not repeat. There is a reason the people who work in the Department of Mysteries are called Unspeakables. All you need to know is that what I saw in the Veil led me to you._

_When I first saw you, you were in your room. The door locked, and even though the music turned on full, you could still hear the sounds of your parents yelling. You were reading a book on your bed, and when I saw the title, I knew we were connected in more than just our appearance. For you were reading_ Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix _. I found the other six books on your shelf, and I could not believe what I was seeing. It was an entire series about my world. I do not know this Harry Potter, but I do know a James Potter and I know of the Order of the Phoenix. The other book titles contained similar references to my world. The legendary Chamber of Secrets and the infamous prison, Azkaban. It was no coincidence, I knew. And as I read over your shoulder, I realized that these books foretold the future of my world. This Harry Potter was important, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would return a second time._

_But in reading about our future, I also saw that dreadful line. The words forever etched in my memory: "…that's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family."_

_And so, by accident, I learned of my own death. My own death I can accept. The photograph was of the Order of the Phoenix, which I must have joined after finishing school, and I know I must have died for fighting for what I believed in. I accept my fate. But my family, my beloved family, to die like that. I cannot accept it. I will not accept it._

_You can save them. You have the knowledge of the books. You are also not bound to the same course that we of this world are. There are things you can do, choices you can make, that I cannot, even with the power of the diadem._

_You have not met my family yet, I would guess, but you should know them._ _My ma, June McKinnon, works in the owlry in Diagon Alley. She loves her birds almost as much as her own children. Her ma and da are muggles, and they couldn't be prouder to have a witch for a daughter._ _My da, Collin McKinnon, is an auror. His family are mostly purebloods, though I believe there are a few muggles and muggleborns in his family tree. He was a Gryffindor, unlike the rest of the family, and you can imagine how horrified he was when all three of his children ended up in Hufflepuff._

_My older brother Owen, followed in our da's footsteps. He became an auror last year, and following his initiation into the ranks, he married a pretty witch named Yuki. She's pregnant with their first child. My brother hopes it's a girl. He says he hopes she's as clever as her ma, as kind as her granny, and as full of life as me._

_I also have a younger brother, Hartley, who is now a fourth-year Hufflepuff and wants to play Keeper on our Quidditch team. He's a wee bit mad at me at the moment, because I rejected the captain's badge and resigned my position as Chaser this summer. Hartley wants to work in professional Quidditch. He isn't a good enough flyer to play professionally so he wants to be a Healer for the Montrose Magpies. He's a good boy, so forgive him if he's short with you because of my decision._

_This is my family. They are the love of my life, and I would do anything for them. I do not know the exact day my family will be attacked, but I know it will occur in 1981, two weeks after that photograph is taken, you know the one. My parents' home will be attacked by Death Eaters. My da, my ma, my brothers, my new sister, my unborn niece… All of them will die._

_Do not begrudge my decision. If I had stayed in my world, I would have died with them. I do not mind trading places with you. If I must die a little sooner so that they can live, then that is a choice worth making._

_I know it is a heavy burden I place on you, but I know that you can succeed._

_The diadem and the books will be your guide. It may seem intimidating at first, to wear Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, but you will understand. Trust the diadem. With your foresight and its power, you can save my family._

_Thank you._

_P.S. The homework for first few classes are in your bookbag. After that, you will have to rely on the diadem to help you catch up. In the trunk at the foot of my bed are all my coursebooks from first year until now._

I stared at the letter, the words that Marlene McKinnon had written to me before she swapped her life for mine. The words she'd poured onto this page filled with her love for her family and her hopes that I could save them.

Anger coiled in my stomach as I stared down at the parchment. What an idiot Marlene McKinnon was. She'd thrown her life away on the thin hope that I could change the future. I'd been lying on the road, desperately clinging to my miserable life, while she had thrown hers away so easily.

"I need a drink," I muttered.

And I still didn't understand why it needed to be me. Why couldn't Marlene have saved her own family? She knew the rough time when their deaths would occur—all she needed to do was make certain they were at a different place than the Death Eaters expected. For someone who had been wearing Ravenclaw's diadem, Marlene seemed to be missing a few steps in her reasoning.

"What does it say?" asked Helena.

I glanced up at the ghost, wondering how much I should tell her. Unlike Marlene, I was not for one second under the delusion that Helena felt any sense of loyalty towards me. Most likely, she would keep the truth as long as it interested her, and as soon as it became more interesting to share, she would spill my secrets to the first person who asked.

"She repeated most of what you told me already," I said, weighing my words carefully. "And told me a bit about her family and that she's done all the essays for the first few classes this week." I breathed a sigh of relief at that last.

"Hmm." Helena floated around so that she faced me. "What do you plan to do?"

"I don't know." That was the honest answer.

The task that Marlene had laid before me felt monumental, a specter looming over me. My throat tightened as I tried to process what Marlene asked of me. The murder of the McKinnons would not happen for four years. Even with all that time, I had no idea where to even begin in altering that future. And if I did manage to save the McKinnon family, who's to say that I wouldn't change the fate of someone else in the world by doing so? What if, by saving the McKinnon's, I doomed someone more important? What if Sirius Black or Remus Lupin died in their youth because of my decision? What if the Potters died earlier than they were meant to and Harry Potter didn't become the Boy Who Lived? Would I doom the world by trying to save Marlene's family?

Of course, there was also the one glaring fact that no one had yet mentioned: the diadem contained a part of Voldemort's soul.

Did Marlene truly not know what she'd been dealing with? Had the horcrux stayed silent and allowed Marlene to do as she pleased? No, I refused to believe that. The horcruxes in the _Harry Potter_ books had tricked, deceived, and manipulated the people around them. Perhaps Marlene was hiding the truth of the diadem from me? But surely, she, who believed in the all-knowing power of the books, would guess that I'd learned about the horcruxes from them. So then, did she truly not know?

As Marlene was gone from this world, the only way to find out was to wear the diadem myself. Marlene had advised it, saying I would need to wear the diadem to catch up on six years' worth of school work. But even the idea of trying filled me with a sense of foreboding. Nothing good would come of Ravenclaw's diadem. If I could. I'd rather avoid wearing it altogether.

As I was going through this internal struggle, Helena had watched me silently. Her gray eyes surveyed me up and down before, growing impatient, she finally asked, "You are going to save her family, are you not?"

I closed my eyes and pushed away the weight that had been threatening to come crashing down around me. I couldn't think about it now. Deep, even breaths. Not now. I still had the school day ahead of me. Saving the McKinnon family and dealing with the horcrux in my bookbag were less pressing issues than the one that faced me today. I still had to convince everyone that I was Marlene McKinnon.

The suffocating feeling began to fade, and finally, I felt I could open my eyes without fear of collapsing onto the lavvy floor.

Helena hovered in front of me, her gray eyes narrowed. "Well?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to try." I hesitated and then, despite my better judgment, asked, "What will happen to me if they find out I'm not Marlene McKinnon?"

Helena frowned. "It would probably depend on who finds out. I imagine most would believe you to be under the Imperious Curse, in the control of Death Eaters. Once they determined that you were not Imperioused, they will either send you to the Department of Mysteries for study or to St. Mungo's for observation." She offered me a wry smile. "Depending on whether they believe you to be telling the truth or not."

I nodded. I'd figured as much. Neither option was appealing. The odds of telling someone and being permitted to continue on as Marlene seemed slim right then. Perhaps the time would come when I would want to tell someone who I was and where I came from, but for the time being, pretending to be the real Marlene McKinnon seemed like the best course. Provided, of course, that I could pull off the act.

"Let's hope I don't end up in St. Mungo's," I muttered.

Helena smiled. This time it was genuine, and for a second, I almost believed that she cared whether I succeeded or failed. "Good luck."

I was going to need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter posted! Now, the real work begins for f!Marlene...
> 
> Please leave a comment! What do you think of the letter? Useful? Useless? Will anyone figure her out? Who will discover her? Take a guess! Leave a comment! (Please)


	3. The Magician Reversed

**PART ONE: IN VITAM**

* * *

**Chapter III: The Magician Reversed**

When I arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, I quickly realized that I had no idea which table belonged to which house, and there was no way in hell I'd ever be able to find Marlene's friends amongst the hundreds of black-robed students.

That terrifying thought barely had time to settle before it was replaced by the realization that I was standing in _the_ Great Hall. Overhead, the infamous floating candles hovered above the four long, wooden tables. I had read about the Great Hall in the books and seen it in the movies, and yet those images dimmed in comparison to reality. I understood now why some said that the Great Hall had no ceiling and simply opened up to the heavens. The pale, morning sky with a few scattered clouds drifted above me, stretching across my vision. I forgot that I was standing in a crowded hall and imagined myself at the crest of a green hill, on one of the rare, sunny mornings in Aberdeenshire, looking down the long slope to the sea.

Then, reality struck me again, and I was back in the Great Hall, surrounded by students and voices. It was in that moment, as I stared up the enchanted sky, that I realized just how lost I was. This wasn't my world. My world had no magic. It had been made of music and shouting and alcohol. There were no floating candles, no spells to make things fly, no ghosts, no moving pictures, no shifting staircases. I didn't belong here. This wasn't my world.

I stood rooted to the spot, and the overwhelming weight that I'd managed to push away came rushing back. My throat felt impossibly tight as I looked at the swarm of students. I was an idiot. There was no way I could fool anyone that I was Marlene McKinnon.

Then, Dorcas appeared in front of me with a warm smile and said, "We're over here."

The panic slowly subsided as Dorcas led me across the Great Hall to the table furthest from the doors. There, I saw Lily helping herself to breakfast, and beside her sat the petite girl with a bob cut who had been featured in many of Marlene's photos.

"You made it," said Lily warmly.

"Safe and sound." My voice was little more than a murmur as I settled into the seat across from her.

Lily glanced up at the ceiling with a frown. "The post still hasn't arrived yet."

"It will come," said Dorcas. "When has it not?"

Mountains of breakfast foods sprawled in front of me—toast, jam, bacon, eggs of all sorts, waffles, pancakes, crumpets, muffins, pumpkin juice, breakfast tea—and yet none of it looked appetizing. I didn't want to be here, sitting at the Gryffindor table with these girls. I wanted to be curled up in Marlene's four-poster bed with my head under the covers, screaming my panic and frustration. But I knew if I skipped breakfast and didn't have Marlene's friends to show me where the Potions classroom was, I would never find my way there, and if I allowed myself to skip class one morning, I would start allowing myself to skip class every morning. No. I was Marlene McKinnon now, I reminded myself, and I needed act like it.

Just as I added scrambled eggs and toast to my plate, the awaited post arrived. I almost fell off the bench when an owl dropped a newspaper onto the table, narrowly avoiding my cup of tea. The others seemed completely unphased by the letters and papers raining down on them. However, if they found my reaction odd, none of them showed it. Lily had already picked up her paper and began unrolling it.

"More bad news?" asked Dorcas as Lily scanned the front page/

"Nothing in Ayrshire?" asked Mary anxiously.

Lily pursed her lips. "There was an attack in Surrey. The muggles are chalking it up to bad weather."

Mary blanched as she read the article over Lily's shoulder. "Three dead. More injured."

I forced myself to eat even though I couldn't taste the scrambled eggs.

Lily flipped through more of the paper, her eyes scanning the articles. "Quidditch," she said in disgust when she reached the sports pages. "Who cares about Quidditch in a time like this?" She then glanced up at me. "Sorry, Marlene."

For a moment, I had no idea why she would apologize to me. Then, I remembered that Marlene used to play. After swallowing my mouthful of eggs, I said, "No worries."

"We can't be focused on the war all the time, mind," said Dorcas. "People need something else in their lives."

"I know," said Lily, placing the newspaper onto the table. "But I can't care about who wins what game in Quidditch when there are people—magical and muggle—dying."

I peered at the page she'd left it open to. In black letters, the article was titled "Augustus Rookwood Assures Public That the Department of Mysteries Remains Untouched By Death Eaters". The name Rookwood sounded familiar, but I couldn't remember where from. The bit that caught my attention was the mention of the Department of Mysteries. This Rookwood was claiming the Department was secure, but hadn't Marlene snuck inside to find the Veil? I tried to read the first line of the article, but Dorcas then picked up the paper and began flipping through it.

"Minchum has been making better progress against the Death Eaters than Jenkins ever did," said Dorcas. Despite her words, she didn't sound pleased with this Minchum.

"Minchum's approach is too ruthless," said Lily. "If five wizards were rounded up and only one of them was a Death Eater but he didn't know which, Minchum and Crouch would rather send all five to Azkaban than risk the one Death Eater going free."

"Sometimes a hardline minister is what you need in dark times," said Mary.

I tried to piece together what they were saying and commit the names to memory. I wished Marlene's letter had contained more useful information. Knowing about her family was good, but I also needed to know other things like what kind of food Marlene liked, what her favorite classes were, whether she had any pets, who she had dated, and so many other seemingly insignificant details. It was those small moments, the moments where I should know a joke or remember an event, that would give me away.

Mary suddenly leaned forward and hissed, "They're coming over."

I followed the girls' gazes down the Gryffindor table to where a group of four boys sauntered towards us. I didn't need anyone to tell me who they were. The handsome one with shaggy black hair that fell effortlessly into his eyes had to be Sirius Black, which meant that the slightly taller one next to him with hazel eyes and messy hair that stuck up in the back was James Potter. I noted the Quidditch Captain and Head Boy badges that flashed on his chest beside the red and gold mark of Gryffindor.

Behind them was a tall boy with light brown hair and a thin face. There were the shadows of sleepless nights under his eyes, and a long thin scar that ran across his left cheek. Undoubtedly Remus Lupin.

The last boy in the group was on the small side, about five centimeters shorter than I was. He had a round, chubby face and an upturned nose that unfortunately reminded me of a rat. His thin, mousy hair was cut in the male pageboy style that was popular in the 70s but made me cringe internally.

The Marauders, I thought, as I watched Sirius elbow James in the side and the two of them exchanged knowing glances. If I hadn't almost died and been tasked with saving the McKinnons, I probably would have drooled over them like many of the Gryffindor girls were doing. Instead, all I could was look over at Lily and wonder how long it would be until she and James finally shagged.

"Good morning, Head Girl," said James as he slid into the seat next to her.

Lily had been determinedly ignoring the Marauders, her green eyes fixed on the plate in front of her. It was only when James spoke to her that she looked up and said, "Good morning, Potter."

His eyebrows rose. "I'm Potter now, am I?"

"James," she corrected herself.

I figured it wouldn't be long.

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" asked Mary, scooting over to make room for Peter.

"We had a late morning," said Sirius.

Before I knew it, the Marauders had settled onto the benches and began having breakfast with us. For a second, I was too stunned to move. I could only imagine the reaction of my Potterhead friend if she learned that _the_ Sirius Black was eating a buttered crumpet in front of me. Then, Remus knocked Dorcas's goblet of pumpkin juice over the _Daily Prophet_ , and I came crashing back down to earth. These weren't book characters anymore. They were real people. People that could send me to St. Mungo's if they found out the truth.

"Glad to see you're eating with us again, Marlene," said Sirius.

I nodded mutely as I reached for a napkin to help clean up the mess.

"She's been a bit grouchy this morning, mind," said Dorcas. " _Scourgify_." She pointed her wand at the spilled pumpkin juice, and the orange liquid immediately vanished, leaving newspaper dry and untouched.

I stared at the napkin in my hand before quickly using it to wipe my mouth. I glanced around the table, but it seemed no one noticed my mistake.

"Potions first thing in the morning," grumbled Sirius.

"Isn't it great?" said Lily with a broad grin. "We had Defense Against the Dark Arts first last year, and I had a hard time staying awake through Professor Gibbons droning voice."

Sirius and James exchanged glances that plainly said they'd rather that than Potions.

"I've a free period," said Peter smugly.

"Same," said Dorcas.

"That's because Peter got a 'Troll' on his Potions OWL," said James with a laugh.

Peter's face turned bright red. "I didn't. It was a 'Poor', and you know it."

James and Sirius laughed, and soon Peter was laughing along with them. I copied their smiles as I looked over the small boy that sat on the other side of the table. This was Peter Pettigrew, the same Peter Pettigrew who, in just a few years' time, would join the Death Eaters and hand Lily, James, and their infant son over to Voldemort.

How many of the people sitting around me would die in the next few years? James and Lily would be murdered by Voldemort. Sirius would be framed for it and sent to prison. Peter would spend thirteen years as a rat, while Remus, burdened with guilt, would be ostracized because of his werewolf curse. What would happen to Mary and Dorcas? Would they die as well? And Marlene was supposed to be murdered along with her family—though she would survive if I had anything to say about it.

"Marlene quit Quidditch?"

James's loud voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked up from my plate with a mumbled, "What?"

James looked from me to Lily and back to me. "You quit the Quidditch team? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Yeah, uh, this summer." I stumbled over my words, trying to remember everything I could from Marlene's letter. "Hartley's disappointed in me."

"Hartley!" cried James. "What about me? What about our rivalry?"

I had no idea that Marlene even had a Quidditch rivalry with James, so I responded with a lame, "Sorry."

"We all thought you would get the captain's badge for sure," said James.

"I was wondering why Davey Gudgeon had it," said Remus, looking over his shoulder at the Hufflepuff table.

"I did get the badge," I said. "But I sent it back with my resignation."

James opened and closed his mouth several times as if he couldn't comprehend the idea of someone not wanting to play Quidditch any longer. Finally, he asked, "But who's going to be my rival when my team gloriously wins the Cup?"

"Do you need a rival?" asked Lily. She tried to sound disapproving, but there was a smile as she spoke.

"Of course!" cried James. "How can my final year as Gryffindor Captain be epic if I don't have a rival to make cry when I win the Quidditch Cup?"

"You'll have to find a new one," I said. "Maybe you can make posters."

Sirius laughed. "We'll put them on the House bulletin boards, mate. 'James Potter: Seeking Quidditch Rival Who Will Cry on Demand.'"

"You laugh," said James, "but I still don't get why Marlene quit."

Once again, all the attention was on me, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "It was a feeling, I don't know. It was something I needed to do."

Lily sent me a pitying look, while Mary nodded along in understanding.

"But why?" asked James.

"Oh, shut it," said Lily. "She answered your question. Now give it a rest."

James immediately shut it, but an uncomfortable silence settled around the group.

"Oh look," said Dorcas, checking her watch. "It's about time you lot headed to Potions."

It was a relief when Lily grabbed her bookbag and got to her feet. I quickly followed, almost tipping over the hem of my robe. I was used to my own thin limbs, and Marlene's strong ones threw me off balance if I wasn't careful.

"Don't be late," Lily warned the Marauders as we waited for Mary to gather her things.

"We still have ten minutes," said James.

Lily raised one judging eyebrow, but she only said, "I'll see you in the dungeons."

Then, with Mary and me in tow, she led the way out of the Great Hall. As we passed by the Slytherin table, I noticed some of the students giving us dirty looks. Or rather, I quickly realized, they were giving Lily and Mary dirty looks. It seemed they didn't give a rat's arse about me. Lily kept her head held high and her gaze fixed on the doors. Mary kept glancing over her shoulder, and when I followed her gaze, I saw that the Marauders were watching us carefully. I might have been mistaken, but I could've sworn I saw James place his wand on the table.

We made it out of the Great Hall without incident. I was careful to walk a little behind Lily and Mary so I wouldn't make a wrong turn on the way to Potions class. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of silver, but I didn't look to see if Helena was following me again. Next trip to the lavvy, I'd warn her that stalking me would only make people suspicious.

The Potions classroom had low, arched ceilings made of dark bricks. The walls were lined with shelves hosting rows upon rows of vials, bottles, flasks, boxes, and cauldrons. In the far back there was a room that jutted out and contained even more containers, each labeled with the name of an ingredient. In the middle of the room, a dozen desks had been placed in rows of three.

Some students had already arrived, their cauldrons placed on stands and their textbooks out in front of them. A group of sneering Slytherins sat in the back corner. Lily did her best to ignore them, and I realized that the thin, greasy-haired boy with deathly pale skin and a splattering of pimples must be Severus Snape. He had his head lowered as he spoke in a hushed voice to a boy with dark hair. In the next row over, two girls with green badges on their chests sent Lily venomous glares. There was also a few Ravenclaws at the front and a group of Hufflepuff boys at the desks in the center of the room. One of them sent me a glowing smile when my eyes met his, and I managed to weakly return it.

Lily took a seat at the front desk on the far right, and Mary settled at the table behind her. I stood frozen half way down the aisle, unsure if I should sit on the stool next to Lily or the one next to Mary.

After half a second, I leaned against the edge of the desk next to Mary's, as if I wasn't quite ready to sit down yet, and said, "James wouldn't leave me alone about Quidditch."

"Yeah," said Mary, shaking her head. "He's got Quidditch on the brain."

"You two have been playing against each other for years," said Lily. "I'm sure he genuinely wanted to play with you in our last year."

Mary gave Lily a curious glance, and I followed suit.

Lily immediately started turning pink and said, "He's barmy for Quidditch."

"Is there something I'm missing?" asked Mary, leaning forward in her seat. "You've been awfully nice to James since the new school year began"

"It's only because we're Head Boy and Girl," said Lily. "It'd be counterproductive for us to get into fights like we used to."

Mary shot me a knowing look.

"And he's not all bad," continued Lily. "There was the incident in Hogsmeade last year after all."

At this, Mary nodded in agreement. "I didn't expect it of him."

I tried to look like I knew what they were talking about.

"I was surprised and not surprised," said Lily. "James has always protected the younger Gryffindors when the Slytherins tried to jinx them in halls. Though, Potter used to jinx them himself when the mood struck him." She added the last part with a frown.

"Well, he was bound to start growing up some time," I said.

Lily offered me a thin smile. "There you go again, Marlene. Always defending him."

Had Marlene defended him before? I gave a sheepish shrug and looked away. I watched a Slytherin couple entered the dungeon hand-in-hand. The boy was burly with curling, brown hair, while the girl was short and curvy with a kind face. Her gaze fell on me, and all the kindness left it. I met her disdainful stare and then turned away. I should avoid drawing attention to myself.

"Death Eaters, those two," muttered Mary under her breath.

"You don't know they'll make that choice," said Lily.

Mary rolled her eyes but only said, "Odds are I'm right."

I hesitated. Unsure what to say. I knew some of them would make that choice…but would Marlene know that? Finally, I settled on, "Some of our classmates will become Death Eaters. You can't deny that."

Lily sent me an odd look, and I wondered if I'd said the wrong thing.

"It's unsettling," said Mary, "to think that in less than a year's time, some of the people we've spent seven years learning magic with will then use that magic to harm others."

"If they choose to become Death Eaters," said Lily.

I felt a wave of pity for her, as I assumed her stubbornness had to do with her childhood friend, Snape. She must know he was planning to join the Death Eaters once he graduated. Of course, she couldn't know he would send Voldemort after her and her family in four years' time.

I winced. Surely there was something I could do to change that fate, some choice I could make to save the Potters… But I was already tasked with saving the McKinnons, and that would be difficult enough without adding more lives to the list. Once I started adding to it, the list would never stop growing.

"Good morning, Miss Evans, Miss McKinnon, Miss McDougal."

A short man with a belly that bulged under his dark green robes walk down the aisle, heading to the front of the classroom. He barely came up to my nose, and I got a good view of his balding head as he greeted Lily with a warm smile.

"Good morning, Professor Slughorn," she said.

"Good morn, Professor Slughorn," I echoed.

Mary looked sullen, and she waited for him to pass before saying, "McDonald. He got my name wrong again."

"He's a little forgetful," said Lily gently.

I said nothing as I watched the professor settle in the large armchair behind the teacher's desk at the front of the room. I couldn't help but stare at Horace Slughorn, the infamous sycophant and founder of the Slug Club.

Briefly, I wondered if Marlene was in the Slug Club. After all, Slughorn had gotten her name right. But I quickly decided it didn't matter. If she was, I would simply announce my resignation from the Slug Club just as Marlene had for Quidditch. If anyone asked, it was NEWT year, and I had more important things to focus on. Which was true. Getting through Potions class was far more important than membership in the Slug Club.

Cauldrons, I discovered, were kept in the storage closet in the back left of the classroom. There were shelves upon shelves of pewter cauldrons, labeled with the names of students. However, as Lily kindly reminded me, we were using the schools' brass cauldrons today, and I retrieved one from the back of the closet. When we returned, I placed my cauldron on beside Mary's but continued to stand. The seats beside Lily and Mary remained empty.

Barely a minute before class started, the Marauders, minus Peter, made their way into the dungeon. Slughorn shot them all disapproving looks as they made their way across the classroom to where we were seated. Sirius and James settled at the same table as Mary, and Remus sat on the stool next to Lily. I made a guess and took the empty seat beside Mary. As no one sent me odd looks, I figured I'd guessed right.

"Turn in your essays on Brass Cauldrons at the front of the class," said Slughorn, gesturing towards a wooden box on his desk.

I opened my bookbag and started rummaging through. My arm went into the bag all the way past my elbow. It took all my willpower not to scream.

My arm should not fit this deep. The bookbag should not have that much space. After two deep breaths, I reminded myself that I was at Hogwarts and expansion charms existed. Likely, Marlene had charmed her bookbag to fit more in it.

Once I'd calmed down, I reached back into the bookbag again. My fingers burned as they brushed past the Veil shard, and I had to bite my tongue to stop the pain from showing on my face. At last, I found what I was looking for. There were several rolls of parchment at the bottom, each labeled with the name of a class. I found the one labeled "Potions", and unrolling it, I saw in neat handwriting the words "Essay on the Proper Use and Maintenance of Brass Cauldrons" written at the top. Fighting back a sigh of relief, I took the parchment to the front of the classroom and placed it in the box along with the others students' essays.

After returning to my desk, I pulled my copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ by Libatius Borage out of the bookbag. I stared at the blue-gray cover for a moment, and then, against my better judgment, I glanced over my shoulder at the back of the classroom where Snape was bent over his own textbook. Nineteen years from now, Harry Potter would open that textbook and discover the Half-Blood Prince.

"As I told you," said Slughorn, his voice filling the classroom, "today we will be making the Blood-Replenishing Potion, which you will find on page 324. This potion is incredibly important for Healers and has saved many wizards and witches from the cold hands of death." Slughorn shuddered at the thought. "This potion is made in three stages, which we will complete throughout this week. The first stage we will complete today, the second and longest stage we will complete tomorrow, and we will finish the potions on Friday. Your final product should be blood red in color. You have until 8:25. You may begin."

I flipped to page 324 of my textbook and stared at the long, complicated list of ingredients and then at the even longer, even more complicated list of directions. Feverfew pollen, maidenhair leaves, hawthorn berries…powdered vampire teeth?

Glancing up, I saw that most of the other students had gone to the ingredients' cupboard. Taking my textbook with me, I followed their lead. I grabbed whatever I saw anyone else grabbing, trying to double-check with the list in my book. Thankfully, Remus saved me from grabbing foxglove instead of feverfew.

On the way back to my desk, arms full of ingredients, I saw Lily point her wand at the stand and, without uttering a word, start a small fire beneath her cauldron. Horror gripped my throat as I realized I didn't know the incantation of start a fire. And, even if I did, I had no idea if the spell would even work.

Trying to remain calm, I settled in at my desk and started following the directions in the textbook. Add the vial of vampire blood. Bring to a boil… Well, I couldn't start a fire, so I figured I'd skip that instruction for now. Measure a half gram of feverfew pollen and add to the boiling vampire blo… No, can't do that yet either.

Next to me, Sirius started a fire beneath his cauldron with a sharp jab of his wand. He didn't need to use an incantation either.

Perhaps I could run to the lavvy and ask Helena what the incantation for the Fire-Making Charm was, but just as I thought that, Mary raised her wand next to me, pointed it at the base of her brass cauldron, and said, " _Incendio_." Fire appeared in the stand, and she proceeded to measure out her feverfew pollen.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up my black walnut wand. I tried to remember Helena's advice: I had to believe it would work. I pointed the wand at the base of my cauldron and said, " _Incendio_."

Nothing happened.

Sirius shot me a mocking look down the length of the table. "Gotten rusty over the weekend, McKinnon?"

"Yeah, I must've," I said with a small, forced laugh. I wanted to melt into the floor and disappear. The Fire-Making Charm was something Harry Potter learned in his first year at Hogwarts.

Well, there was nothing for it to try again, and if that failed, I'd eat some powdered vampire teeth and hope it'd send me to the Hospital Wing.

Deep breath. Sharp, pointed wand movement. " _Incendio_."

Nothing.

Panic seized my throat and I found it hard to breathe. I couldn't do this. Marlene was barking mad to think I could. I wasn't a witch. I couldn't cast a simple spell like _incendio_. They were going to find out I wasn't Marlene, and her whole plan would be worthless. I was going to end up in St. Mungo's. All because I couldn't cast a stupid Fire-Making Charm.

And then, before my eyes, a small fire lit in the stand beneath my brass cauldron.

I stared at the flickering, orange flame before looking about. Lily and Mary were both preoccupied with weighing their ingredients, so it couldn't have been them. I looked to my right and saw Sirius Black smirking at me. He mouthed the words, "You owe me," before turning his attention back to his potion.

The shadow of a memory stirred, and I felt a twinge of annoyance at the smirking Sirius Black. I did owe him, but I didn't have time to think about that. I only had about forty minutes to complete the first stage of my Blood-Replenishing Potion. The recipe dictated that it took just under forty minutes to make, and I needed all the extra time I could get.

Fortunately, Potions was not a class that required much wandwork beyond the Fire-Making Spell. I spent the rest of class focused on preparing the ingredients and stirring the cauldron. The potion was complicated, and I lacked experience. I mixed up two of the ingredients. I used the scales wrong at first, adding too many crushed hawthorn berries. Mary had to save me from adding the powdered vampire teeth at the wrong time.

By the end of class, I was sweating and my potion was the color of tar.

Slughorn tut-tutted as he walked by. "I know you can do better than that, Miss McKinnon."

"Sorry, professor."

He examined the bubbling tar and said, "You'll have to start over next class unfortunately. _Scourgify_." He pointed his wand at the cauldron.

Rather than be upset that my potion was a complete and utter mess, I was just relieved that I wouldn't have to try to cast _scourgify_ myself.

My other classes didn't go any better. I got my seat wrong in Transfiguration and didn't realize it until one girl told me to move my arse before she hexed it. I, of course, didn't cast a single spell correctly only managed to enlarge poor Mary's ears. Thankfully, McGonagall put them right immediately and there was no harm done. Mary laughed it off, but I still felt bad.

I had a two-hour break for lunch, and rather than go to the Great Hall with Marlene's friends, I returned to the Hufflepuff Basement to find the first-year textbooks Marlene had left for me in the trunk. Alone in the dorm room, I practiced the Fire-Making Charm over and over again until I accidentally set the edge of my bed on fire and had the smother the flames with a pillow.

Defense Against the Dark Arts went no better than Transfiguration as I couldn't cast a single spell let alone a nonverbal one. I kept waving my wand and watching as nothing happened. It wasn't just Marlene's friends who were giving me odd looks now. One Slytherin girl even asked if I'd turned into a muggle over the weekend.

In evening Herbology, one of the plants tried to eat my hand because I didn't know that they were sensitive to touch. Professor Sprout set my hand right with a wave of her wand and let me leave class early, telling me to do my homework properly next time.

At that point, I wanted nothing more than to collapse into my four-poster bed and sleep for twelve hours. Maybe when I woke, I'd be in my own bed in Stonehaven, and the world of Hogwarts would be back on my bookshelves where it belonged.

This wasn't my world. This wasn't my life. I should've have died on that road. It was what I deserved. I knew better than to drive on the piss. My friend had even offered to give me a ride home. But no. I'd heard my ex telling me that I was too guttered to drive, and I'd lost my temper. Now, I didn't even know if the lorry driver had survived.

No. It was too late for regrets now. I had accepted this life. Marlene had offered a trade, and I'd agreed. There was no going back now.

I adjusted the strap of my magical bookbag and headed for the stairs. Hopefully, I could find the seventh-floor corridor on my own.

* * *

I somehow managed to navigate the moving staircases up to the seventh floor without getting lost or falling into a trick step. The hard part was then finding where the Room of Requirement would appear. I wandered down several corridors and past a portrait of a large woman who I assumed to be the Fat Lady. In my head, I repeated over and over again that I needed a place to learn magic in secret. Still, no suspicious door appeared. I found several doors marked with labels reading, "Professor Vablatsky's Office" and "Professor Chen's Office". There were some doors that were locked and others that I heard voices behind.

As I walked along a corridor lined with stain-glass windows that looked out over a courtyard, a familiar voice asked, "Are you lost?"

I turned around to find the long, sorrowful face of Helena Ravenclaw.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," I said before continuing down the corridor.

"I have been watching you. You were dreadful in every class."

"Aye well, it hasn't even been twenty-four hours since I became a witch."

"Are you looking for that room?" asked Helena. "The room that comes and goes?"

"The Room of Requirement," I said, careful to keep my voice low. "I know it's somewhere on the seventh floor." I glanced over my shoulder at Helena. Could ghosts access the Room? If Helena had need of something, would the Room appear for her? I hesitated and then asked, "Do you know the layout of this floor well?"

Helena frowned. "I have dwelled in these halls for centuries."

"Would you notice a doorway you've never seen before?"

"I believe I would."

And so, I began my search of the seventh floor again. This time, Helena floated behind me, her gray eyes scanning the doors, looking for one she did not recognize. She listed them off for me, saying "This is the Charms professor's office… This is the trap door that leads to the Divination classroom… This is a Reading Room… This is the Arithmancy classroom…"

It wasn't until we reached a corridor deep in the castle and far from any windows that Helena finally said, "I do not know this door."

It was a small door, made of dark wood and rather forgettable. The circular doorknob was made of brass, and I wondered if the Room was trying to make fun of me after my disastrous Potions class. I glanced at Helena before raising a hesitant hand to the knob.

The door swung open to reveal a large room with high walls and an arched ceiling. The wall farthest away was lined with mirrors. Helena drifted in after me, and I let the door swing shut. In the center of the room, there were several practice dummies made of straw and sheets. Against the far-right wall, there was a white bookcase that, upon further inspection, held the entire set of textbooks required for all seven years at Hogwarts. A giant mahogany desk rested beside the bookcase with a cushy maroon armchair. On the other side of the room, there was a potions set, complete with pewter and brass cauldrons, scales, a mortar and pestle, and a small cabinet of ingredients. There was also sink with a metal bucket next to it, which I assumed was for putting out any fires.

"Amazing," said Helena. If she'd been alive, I'm sure she would have gasped. "This room has all you could need."

"The Room of Requirement," I explained. "I had a need, and it changed itself to meet my need."

Rather than use the books on the shelves, I rummaged through my enchanted bookbag until I found Marlene's copy of _The Standard Book of Spells_ _(Grade 1)_. I flipped through the book until I reached the chapter on the Fire-Making Charm. I'd read some of the chapter in my free period, but mostly, I'd practiced the spell. Now, after preparing a bucket of water, I went over to the potions station, pointed the wand at the cauldron stand, and said, " _Incendio_."

A massive jet of flame shot from my wand. Thankfully, nothing was set ablaze.

"No, no," said Helena from somewhere behind me. "This is a spell that adjusts to the witch's will. You have to visualize the single flame. And say incantation with less gusto."

I gritted my teeth and tried again. This time, nothing happened.

Helena gave an inelegant snort. "Why do you not use the diadem? It would certainly speed up the process. At this rate, we will be in here a month."

"I can't use the diadem." I tried the spell again, this time with a little more force behind my voice. The corner of the table caught fire, and I quickly dumped the bucket of water on the flickering flames before they could spread.

"Marlene left it to you for a reason," said Helena.

I kept my mouth shut, but in my head, I shouted that it was horcrux, a piece of Voldemort's soul. Perhaps it would help me catch up on coursework in the short run, but in the long run… The thought sent a shiver down the back of my neck.

I pointed my want at the cauldron stand. " _Incendio_."

Again, nothing happened.

"I do not think you will be able to learn all this on your own," said Helena. "There is a reason it takes students seven years to graduate from Hogwarts."

She was right, of course. I knew that. Even if I did manage to learn seven years' worth of magic in one year, it wouldn't help. The problem was more immediate than that. I had seen the way Marlene's friends had looked at me. The concern in Lily's eyes, the wariness in Mary's, the suspicion in Remus's. The Ravenclaws had pitied me, and the Slytherins had mocked me. One day could be passed off as a bad day. Maybe I could get away with two bad days. But when the days started adding up and it became apparent that I couldn't perform even the most basic spells, the other students would realize that there was something wrong with Marlene McKinnon.

They would send me to Dumbledore. He'd figure out that I wasn't under the Imperious Curse or disguised with a Polyjuice Potion. Eventually, he would get the whole story out of me. Even if he did believe me and didn't send me to St. Mungo's, I knew that it wouldn't be for my benefit. I had read the books. While Dumbledore might try to help me, my life and the lives of Marlene's family would never be his priority. If leaving me and the McKinnons for the crows benefited the greater good, I had no doubt that Dumbledore would do it.

No, Dumbledore couldn't be trusted with the knowledge I carried. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps the day would come where it was best to tell him about Harry Potter and the horcruxes, but that day hadn't arrived yet. I would keep this secret for as long as I could.

I had agreed to save the McKinnon family, and nothing would stop me from fulfilling that promise. Not Dumbledore. Not Marlene's friends. Not the snooty Ravenclaws or cruel Slytherins. Not even a horcrux.

Helena watched as I crossed the room to where I'd discarded my bookbag onto the armchair. I rummaged through the bag until I found the silver diadem. It was cool to the touch, and I ran my finger over the bumpy wings that formed the sides of the crown.

"It is the only way," said Helena, drifting across the room to hover beside me. "I do not know why you are so reluctant. It is the key to knowledge."

I decided not to point out that the thirst for knowledge had caused Helena to steal from her own mother and led to her own death. Instead, I stared at the diadem and said, "I'm afraid that it will control me."

"Control you?"

I didn't respond. My gaze landed on the copy of _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ lying on the mahogany desk. Perhaps the reason I'd had so much trouble with the Fire-Making Charm was because I hadn't read the full chapter.

Much to Helena's disappointment, I set the diadem down on the desk and pulled the textbook towards me. The language was complicated, especially at first, and reading went slowly. I had to flip back to the introductory chapter and read that to understand the importance of pronunciation, wand movement, and willpower. Then, I flipped back to the chapter on the Fire-Making Charm and tried again. When I finished, I felt much more confident in the spell, though my understanding was still a little hazy.

I went back to the potion-brewing station and raised my wand. " _Incendio_."

A jet of flame released from the tip of my wand. The fire wasn't as large as before, but still bigger than I'd intended.

"See," I told Helena, "I'm improving without the diadem."

"Congratulations," said Helena dryly, "and it only took you three hours."

I checked my watch and saw that it was indeed approaching nine o'clock. Three hours—no, five if I counted the lunch break—it had taken me to be able to barely cast one spell. I flipped through the table of contents and saw that there were at least fifty spells that students were supposed to learn in their first year. Not to mention, I would be expected to complete my seventh-year homework while learning all these spells.

The crushing weight had returned, and I collapsed into the armchair. It was impossible. There was no way I could learn all this in time to convince others that I was the real Marlene McKinnon. No way. I was going to fail. Perhaps it would be easiest to tell Dumbledore, but…

"This was the agreement," I said.

"What agreement?" asked Helena.

"My agreement with Marlene. She would give me her life, and in exchange, I would use my knowledge to save her family."

"You certainly are not making good progress," said Helena.

"I can't use the diadem."

"Why not?"

I stared at the silver crown. It certainly looked innocent enough. No dark shadow or evil aura surrounded the diadem. Perhaps this timeline was different from the ones in the books, and the diadem hadn't been turned into a horcrux. The diadem appeared to be an innocuous, magical object…

"How much help can the diadem be?" I wondered aloud.

"It will help." There was something grave in Helena's tone that made me pause. I glanced up at her and saw that she was staring across the room at the wall of mirrors. In slow, even tones, she said, "I wore the diadem once, after I stole it from my mother. It was everything I desired—the secret to my mother's vast store of knowledge, the one way that I could become her rival. And then, I died." Helena scoffed at the last part. Her gray eyes flickered back to me and she said, "If you wish to learn six years of school work in a month, the diadem is your only your choice."

I took a deep breath. She was right. I knew she was right. I'd known it from the moment I entered the Room of Requirement. There was no way I could learn all this on my own. I needed the diadem. But also…I couldn't make excuses, and I couldn't assume anything in this world was different from the books. Inside this diadem, there was piece of Voldemort's soul.

Perhaps I was strong enough. Perhaps I could resist any temptation the horcrux threw at me. Or perhaps I would be easy to ensnare, and within a week, I would be setting the basilisk on Lily Evans.

I closed my eyes. Marlene had trusted that I could do this. She had given up her own life because she believed in me and the books I'd read.

Sometimes, risks had to be taken.

I extended a trembling hand and lifted Ravenclaw's diadem from the desk. Carefully, I placed the tiara on my head.

The effects of the diadem were instant, and they were unlike anything I could have possibly imagined. It wasn't that I suddenly gained knowledge and understanding of the world, but rather that the diadem expanded my mind. I was capable of learning at a much greater capacity. My gaze fell on _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ , and before I knew it, I was pouring over the pages. I hadn't known I was able to read so fast, but my eyes flicked over the words with ease, gaining the information and comprehending it at a rapid pace. The Wand-Lighting Charm, _lumos_ , the Dimming Charm, _nox_ , the Softening Charm, _spongify_ , the Severing Charm, _diffindo_ , the Unlocking Charm, _alohomora_ , the Locking Spell, _colloportus_ , the Siphoning Spell, _tergeo_ , the Door Opening Charm, _aberto_ , the Rotation Charm, _circumrota_ , the Slowing Charm, _arresto momentum_ , the Mending Charm, _reparo_ …

On and on it went, my eyes skimming the pages and my brain deciphering the words to understand the theory, incantation, and wand movement before moving onto the next spell. My head was pounding, my hands were shaking, and still I couldn't stop flipping through the pages. Until, finally, I reached the end of the book.

I closed the cover and wrenched the diadem from my head.

It fell onto the desk with a thud.

For a moment, I could only sit there, staring at the silver eagle. My head spun with the words and knowledge I had just consumed. It felt as though the world was shaking and shrinking, and the only thing anchoring me was the diadem.

Then, a wave of nausea hit me. Sensing my need, the Room of Requirement had materialized a metal bucket beside me. I grabbed it and threw up the contents of my stomach. I retched and coughed even when there was nothing left to vomit. Finally, it came to an end, and I remained bent over the bucket, gasping for breath.

Something icy brushed against my shoulder, and I jerked upright. Helena removed her hand with a small, apologetic smile. "That happened to me as well."

"It's terrible," I said, my voice raspy.

"It is knowledge. Both terrible and powerful. But also wonderful." Helena's eyes glistened as she stared down at the diadem. "There is only so much one can learn in the human lifetime. But with the diadem, you can learn so much more."

My stomach churned, and I bent back over the bucket. There was nothing left in me, so I could only gag and retch until the feeling passed.

Finally, the sickness faded, and I was able to sit upright again. Helena watched as I got to my feet and stumbled across the room. At the sink, a washcloth and water glass had appeared. I almost laughed at the Room's frightening ability to meet my needs.

I wiped my face and gurgled water until most of the taste of vomit had left me. Then, I turned to face the cauldron stand. Raising the black walnut wand, I pointed it and said, " _Incendio_."

A small flame appeared at the center of the stand.

I watched it dance in place, before raising my wand again and saying, " _Lumos_." A white light appeared at the end of the wand. " _Nox_." The light disappeared. I waved the wand at the cauldron stand and said, " _Circumrota_." Slowly, the stand rotated in half-circle.

"It works." I could barely hear my own voice.

"I told you," said Helena smugly.

It had worked. God, it was a terrible experience, but it had worked. A year's worth of charms learned in three hours. Perhaps I hadn't mastered them all. Perhaps some of the knowledge gained would fade with time. Perhaps this method wouldn't work as well with some of the more complicated spells. But, so far, it had been a success. And there had been no sign of the horcrux. I hadn't heard any voices, started speaking Parseltongue, lost memories for a time, or been manipulated into doing anything.

Again, I briefly wondered if Voldemort hadn't made the diadem a horcrux, but I quickly pushed that naive thought away. There had been no sign of Voldemort's soul, and I was one step closer to passing myself off as the real Marlene McKinnon. I would take the small victories where I could.

I checked my watch. It was a few minutes past midnight. I should probably go back to the dorm room rather than risk the suspicions of my fellow housemates. Returning in the small hours of the morning two nights in a row would only make things worse.

However, instead of leaving, I moved across the room to the bookshelf. I found the gray spine of the A _dvanced Potions-Making_ textbook and removed it from the shelf.

"What are you doing?" asked Helena, hovering over my shoulder.

"Learning how to make a Blood-Replenishing Potion."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment!


	4. Seven of Swords Upright

**PART ONE: IN VITAM**

* * *

**Chapter IV: Seven of Swords Upright**

"Where were you last night?"

I had a distinct sense of déjà vu as I woke up the next morning. The tall, blonde girl, who I'd learned was named Greta Catchlove, stood on the other side of the dorm room, watching as I rolled out of bed.

"I was studying on the seventh floor," I said, fighting back a yawn. "I dozed off on my copy of _Advanced Potions-Making_."

"You look exhausted," said Dorcas. She was perched on the end of her bed, pulling on her socks and shoes. "Sleep is just as important as studying."

I nodded through a yawn. Then, I grabbed my things and headed to the lavvy to get ready for the day. There were shadows under my eyes when I looked in the mirror, and my muscles had a dull ache to them. This was a different body than the one I was used to. My old body, pale and boney, had become accustomed to sleepless nights. But this new one…it seemed to want something from me, but I didn't know what. It was an endless frustration.

Dorcas had waited for me in the common room. Jenn Creswell, the missing dormmate from yesterday, was with her. I sent a silent thanks to the both of them as I didn't think I was ready to find the Great Hall on my own just yet.

"You really should stop staying out late to study," said Dorcas as she led the way out of the common room.

"Sorry," I said. "Yesterday was rough, and I really wanted to make sure I could do the Blood-Replenishing Potion right today."

"Oh, right," said Dorcas. "Lily told me about that. She hoped it wasn't bothering you too badly. Everyone has an off day now and again."

I fought back a laugh. I was about to have an off month. "Thanks. But you lot really don't need to worry about me."

Dorcas looked as though she wanted to say more, but she must have decided to let it rest because she fell into silence as we walked down the long, empty corridor.

"What a lovely day," said Jenn, gazing out the windows at the blue September sky. "I think I'll go down to the grounds after breakfast. Do you think the bowtruckles will be out this morning?" Her airy tone caught me off guard, and it took me a moment to register the question.

"I don't know," I said.

"You should use your free periods to study, Jenn," said Dorcas. Even as she nagged, her voice was warm.

"I am studying," said Jenn. "Sketching helps me study for Care of Magical Creatures."

"And what about Charms and Transfiguration?" asked Dorcas.

"I can charm the pencil to draw, and I can transfigure the drawing to move. What more do I need?" said Jenn with a smile. Then, seeing the shock on Dorcas's face, she added, "Don't fret, Dory. I'll get all my homework done in time for class."

"You mean minutes before class," muttered Dorcas.

"As long as it gets done," said Jenn.

I watched as Dorcas's dark eyes followed Jenn and the way Jenn snuck a glance at Dorcas. A question formed at the tip of my tongue, but I decided it was better to keep silent. Talking too much, especially about people's personal matters, only increased the odds of me screwing up. No, it was important to keep a balance. Say enough that no one became suspicious, but not enough that I gave away the truth.

Our group sat at the Hufflepuff table that morning, so the Marauders didn't join us—news I welcomed with great relief. I'd be in big trouble if James started asking me in-depth questions about Quidditch. I noticed, however, that the boy in question kept sending meaningful glances in our direction. If he was trying to get Lily's attention, however, it was a losing battle.

Jenn stayed long enough to grab an apple and piece of toast before heading out the school grounds. Dorcas watched her leave with Great Hall, while Lily and Mary poured over that morning's _Daily Prophet_.

"Anything of interest?" I asked as I made myself a cup of tea.

"No brutal murders, if that interests you," said Mary bitterly.

Lily pursed her lips before saying, "More warnings about how we should have pre-arranged questions to ask friends and family to ensure no one's a Death Eater in disguise."

"Should we make-up a question?" asked Mary.

"We're students still in Hogwarts," said Dorcas. "You really think a Death Eater is going to use Polyjuice Potion to pretend to be one of us?"

I tried to smile like this was a hilarious joke.

"I don't think a Death Eater would," said Mary. "But I wouldn't put it past those Slytherins to think it funny to put one of us under the Imperious Curse." She sent a quick glance across the hall.

Both Lily and Dorcas's gazes had darkened at Mary's comment. I mirrored their expressions, but inside, my brain was whirring. One of the future Death Eaters must have done something to muggleborn Mary. I wanted to know what had happened, but I could hardly ask straight up.

Unfortunately, none of Marlene's friends felt the need to discuss the incident further, and the rest of breakfast was spent complaining about the seventh-year workload. I listened carefully, gathering every scrap of information that I could and throwing in a "yeah" or a head nod every once in awhile for good measure.

The school day began with double Potions. Everyone else completed the second part of their potions in the first period and spent the rest of the time in study hall. In the two-hour block, I proudly completed both the first and seconds stages of the Blood Replenishing potion. By the end of class, Slughorn stood over my cauldron of dark red liquid and rambled on about how he knew I had it in me.

When we left the dungeons, Mary said goodbye, and Lily and I made our way to the moving staircases. The corridors were packed with students, all pushing and shoving to get to their next class. I thought I heard someone call my name through the loud buzz of conversation, but I figured I'd imagined it. Who would want to talk to me?

"You did so well with your potion today," said Lily when we'd managed to separate ourselves from the crowd. "Is that what you stayed up late working on last night?"

"To be honest, I didn't think I'd be able to do it." I immediately regretted those words. It was true: I'd worried that I wouldn't retain what I'd learned while wearing the diadem. But I didn't want Lily to know that. I should learn to stick to my own rules. Don't say anything more than I had to.

"Why do you say that?" asked Lily. "You've always been good at Potions."

"I struggled so much in class yesterday."

"Everyone has a bad day now and again. Don't take it to heart."

People needed to stop saying that to me. Unfortunately, as I'd spent all of yesterday focused on learning basic spells and practicing the Blood Replenishing Potion, I hadn't had a chance to open the Ancient Runes textbook. Four years' worth of runes that I was supposed to have memorized, and of course, I knew absolutely nothing. This class was about to be a bin fire.

"Marlene!"

I looked over my shoulder—wondering who could possibly want to talk to me—and found James Potter jogging up the staircase. Sirius, his shaggy, black hair falling into his eyes, trailed after his best friend. I glanced over at Lily, certain that I'd misheard, because James Potter couldn't possibly want to talk to me while Lily Evans was around. However, when he caught up to us, it was, in fact, me that James addressed.

"Marle, why didn't you show up for our run this morning?"

I opened my mouth and then quickly shut it. Running? With James Potter? When did this happen? Also, wasn't he supposed to be head-over-heels for Lily? Why was he talking to me and not swooning over her?

"I know you had a tough summer, mind," James rambled on, "But I thought you'd at least tell me if you didn't want to go on our morning runs anymore. You never miss. Not even when you were being distant—" He broke off when Lily gave him a warning look.

Oh hell. Marlene McKinnon had no problem writing all about her family and making sure I could catch up on coursework, but she never thought to tell me that morning runs with James Potter were part of her weekly schedule.

"Sorry," I said at last. "I stayed up late studying and I slept in this morn."

"She was practicing the Blood-Replenishing Potion," said Lily helpfully.

I was still trying to figure out why James was having a normal conversation with me. Everything I'd ever read in the _Harry Potter_ books said that James had been an absolute fool around Lily. And yet, here he was talking to me and not even greeting Lily yet. As the gears started turning in my head, it occurred to me that _maybe_ my image of James from the books hadn't been entirely accurate.

"Sorry," I said again. "I really didn't mean to ditch you."

A look of relief passed over James's face, and then he gave me a beaming smile. "Good."

I wondered if I could get out of this. In my previous life, the only time I'd run was when they made us do laps in P.E., and even then, my friends and I had walked as much of it as we could get away with. However, Marlene had already quit Quidditch and abandoning the morning runs on top of that might raise some questions.

"Can we run on weekends?" I asked, my voice unnaturally cheerful. "Since I won't have classes to study for then. When are Gryffindor practices?"

"Mostly at night this year," said James. "Slytherin and Hufflepuff have most of the morning time slots. I guess we don't have to plan around Hufflepuff Quidditch practices anymore." He added the last part bitterly. After a warning look from Lily, he changed his tone and asked, "How's Saturday morning for you? At seven?"

The idea of waking up before seven made me want to vomit. However, James's grin was infectious and I found it in me to smile. "The Great Hall?"

"Where else?"

And there it was. I had committed to a morning run with James Potter. My Potterhead friend would be dying of jealously if she could see me now.

"Glad we got that sorted," said Sirius, running a hand through his hair. "James was sulking all morning."

"I was not," said James even as he wore a broad grin. He looked over a Lily, and his smile widened when he saw that she returned it.

"Did you get a chance to talk with Professor McGonagall about last week's detentions?" asked Lily as she and James led the way to the Ancient Runes classroom.

I didn't care to hear their Head Boy and Girl conversation, and I hung back to walk beside Sirius. He had dark shadows under his eyes, and his mouth was stretched into a grim line. I wondered if I should ask him what was wrong—after all, Marlene probably would have asked—but I decided to stick to my own rules and stay out of other people's personal problems.

Instead, I said, "Thanks for your help in Potions yesterday. I was…" I winced. "…having an off day."

Sirius smiled though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "No problem." He glanced up ahead where James and Lily were talking excitedly. Sirius jerked his head in their direction and asked, "How long do you think it'll take them to get together?"

"It'll happen this year," I said.

Sirius snorted. "Everyone knows that. She started getting soft on him last year. Once she stopped hanging out with Snivellus—"

"And James deflated his head a little." I knew that much from the books.

"A little," agreed Sirius.

I watched as Lily touched James's shoulder as she laughed. "I say they'll snog before Christmas."

Sirius scrunched up his face. "I was going to say that."

My eyes narrowed. "Were you trying to make a bet with me?"

"You figured it out. It could've been easy money." Sirius grinned at me then. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and I realized that he was just as handsome as the books described him. However, rather than feel my heart race, I felt myself recoil. There was something about the arrogant twitch of his mouth that brought back unpleasant memories for me.

"Try someone else for your easy money," I muttered. Especially as I had no clue where Marlene kept hers.

He ran a hand through his hair and then, with the barest hint of hesitation, asked, "Why did you quit the Quidditch team?"

I fought the urge to groan. Sirius was just as bad as his best friend. "I told you lot. I had a rough summer, and it didn't feel right to play Quidditch anymore. That's all there is to it."

Sirius nodded his head and left it at that. After a moment, however, he said, "James is going to have to find a new way to ferret out information on the Hufflepuff team now that you've quit."

It took a second for the words to compute, and then, it hit me like a brick. Running. Alone. With James Potter.

Oh hell. I was going to have to read up on Quidditch before Saturday.

* * *

I was right about the bin fire. I was absolute rubbish at Ancient Runes. The professor had given us texts to translate and then write a thousand-word response to, and I'd had to look up every single runic symbol I came across in the English to runes dictionary. By the end of class, Lily was halfway through writing her essay, while I hadn't even gotten two-thirds of the translation done. Lily kept giving me concerned glances, especially when I had to look up simple pronouns multiple times in the dictionary.

Charms went slightly better, at least. I'd learned the first-year spells last night, so I had a foundational understanding of how to cast, and my Bubblehead Charm actually caused bubbles to appear. Sure, the charm was supposed to make one big bubble around my head and not lots of little ones, but it certainly an improvement from Monday's disastrous wandwork.

After Charms, I parted ways with the rest of my friends and started the journey up to the seventh floor. I never would have found the classroom on my own if Helena hadn't shown me the trapdoor last night. Unfortunately, I didn't know about the trick staircase, and I spent a good three minutes trying to unstick my foot.

Running late and dashing up the stairs to the seventh floor, one question still echoed through my head: who the _hell_ takes NEWT-level Divination?

From what I remembered from the _Harry Potter_ books, Divination was a complete joke. Of course, inventing gruesome deaths to impress Professor Trelawney would be far easier than any of my other classes. There were no complex recipes to follow or difficult spells to learn. I just had to go in there and lie my arse off. How hard could it be?

When I stood beneath the trapdoor, the hatch opened and a wooden staircase descended, granting me access to the circular classroom. The feeling of the room was different from what I'd imagined reading the _Harry Potter_ books. I'd pictured a mix between an old attic and a teashop, but what I found instead was a cozy, library-style set up. The walls were lined with shelves containing books, teapots, crystal balls, decks of cards, and all sorts of fortunetelling devices. Between the shelves were floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Great Lake and the vast hills of Scotland. At the far end of the room, there was a large mahogany desk for the professor, and in front of it were two round tables covered with violet tablecloths.

Three people were already seated at the tables, their textbooks open to whatever chapter we were supposed to have read. At one table, two Ravenclaw girls were chatting excitedly about the deck of what looked to be hand-painted cards placed in the center of the table. The other table had an empty chair that, I realized with a sinking feeling, was probably meant for me.

Already seated was a boy with a silver and green tie. His dark eyes lifted to meet mine and, with the slightest nod of his head, he said, "McKinnon."

I nodded my head in return as I moved to sit in the chair opposite him. There was something about his dark hair, cut like a politician's, and his sharp cheekbones that was vaguely familiar. And then, I remembered I'd seen him in my Potions class, sitting with Snape and the other future Death Eaters.

Just my luck. Just my absolute fucking luck. Not only did Marlene fail to mention her weekly runs with James Potter, she also failed to mention that her Divination partner was a future Death Eater.

"Have a good weekend?" he asked as I rummaged through my magical bookbag, searching for the Divination textbook.

As I set the heavy book on the table, I glanced up and saw his heavy-lidded eyes fixed on me. My throat tightened, but I managed to choke out the words: "Could have been better."

He offered me a thin smile. "Was that why Slughorn had to vanish your potion yesterday?"

I resisted the urge to slam my head against the table. "Did everyone notice that?"

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly before his mouth twisted into a mocking smile. "We all have bad days."

Something was very wrong. I couldn't put it into words exactly, but there was something about his eyes and the way he looked at me that set my every nerve off with warning. This was dangerous. This boy was dangerous. I had been so preoccupied with whether Marlene's friends would figure out the truth that I hadn't thought to worry about her enemies.

I was saved from having to answer the Slytherin boy by a woman's husky voice calling out, "Good afternoon, class."

"Good afternoon, Professor Vablatsky," called out the two Ravenclaw girls.

All thoughts of danger disappeared from my head as I twisted in my seat to see the professor. Rather than a woman who resembled a glittering bug, a tall, handsome woman dressed in dark blue robes strode across the classroom to stand behind the mahogany desk. "I'm sorry to keep you inside on such a beautiful day, but Divination is not a subject that lends itself to the out of doors."

My heart sank. I'd forgotten that Professor Trelawney didn't start teaching at Hogwarts until after she made the prophecy about the Chosen One. This Professor Vablatsky seemed like a reasonable person and not the sort to hand out Exceeds Expectations to students who predicted doom and gloom.

"Today, we will continue our study of the tarot deck," said Vablatsky. "Last week, we focused on learning the various meanings behind the tarot cards, and now we will begin learning the basic three-card layout."

I did my best to concentrate as Vablatsky explained that the meaning of the layout and what situations called for it. She read her own fortune for the year on her desk, explaining the position of each card, and going over the meaning behind the different card sets. One card represented the past, another the present, and another the future. The whole thing seemed like a load of shit to me, but in a few minutes, I was going to have to convince a future Death Eater that I'd taken four years of Divination class. I needed every scrap of information I could get. I tried to memorize everything she said, repeating it over and over silently in the short amount of time I had. It wasn't nearly as efficient as the diadem, but I had to make do for now.

Finally, Vablatsky said those dreaded words, "You may now practice with your partner," and I turned to face the dark-haired boy in front of me.

He picked up the deck of cards and held them out to me. "Should I read first, or do you want to?"

How would Marlene treat this Slytherin boy? Two of her best friends were muggleborns and she got along with the Marauders, so I'd guess she wouldn't like a Slytherin who hung out with Snape. But she was a Hufflepuff and probably less upfront about her dislike than the brash Gryffindors.

I settled for a tone of polite dislike as I said, "You can read first."

His heavy gaze never left my face as he continued to hold up the deck for me. I stared at the cards. Their backs had been painted with swirls of yellow, green, and blue that resembled stars in a night sky. My throat tightened as panic washed over me. What was I supposed to do? I thought we'd agreed that he should read first? And then, in some small corner of my memory, I recalled something about shuffling the tarot deck. I don't know if it came from a TV show or some scrap of conversation with a friend, but I took the deck and started shuffling the cards.

"Where do we begin again?" the boy asked. His tone was polished, nothing like my Scottish accent or Dorcas's Bristol dialect. He was one of those people, from the way he held himself aloof to the way he spoke, that I instantly knew came from money. "What is a question bothering you today, McKinnon? Make sure to keep it vague. The tarot cards don't like specifics."

My jaw tightened. There were so many questions bothering me today. Who was this boy? What was he thinking? Had he figured something out? Had anyone? How long could I keep this act up? Would I learn seven years of coursework before anyone caught me? Would the diadem help me? Or would Voldemort's soul take hold? Would I save Marlene McKinnon's family? The questions spun around and around in my head, but in the end, I settled for the mundane: "How's my seventh year at Hogwarts going to go?"

His mouth quirked up slightly. However, he said nothing as he took the cards from me and flipped up the top one. I examined the card, upside down to me, bearing the painting of a red-haired man with a golden crown upon his brow and a circle containing a five-point star in his right hand. The boy flipped up the next card, and a skeleton holding a scythe stared up at me. The third and final card revealed the image of a sword bearing a golden crown at its tip.

"The King of Pentacles reversed," the boy said, looking at the first card. He flipped through the pages of the textbook and read aloud: "'The King of Pentacles falls from his throne. Once the king of a prosperous kingdom, it has become lost to him. He may have been too impatient, he may have been too indulgent, he may have sought shortcuts that led him to ruin.' It seems you have a past of greed and indulgence." He smirked. "That sounds exactly like you, McKinnon."

His voice dripped with sarcasm, but even if it didn't sound like Marlene, it certainly sounded like me. I stared at the king's dark blue robes as I remembered all the days I'd skipped work to drink with my ex and all the times I'd ignored calls from friends when they needed me most. My fingers curled against the asphalt road as I clung to that sorry life.

I snapped back to the present when the boy said, "Death upright." His dark eyes scanned my face and he paused, as if for dramatic effect, before saying, "Beginnings, change, transformation. You're going through a change, leaving your past behind so that a new version of you can be created."

Tarot cards were a load of shit. I knew that. Everyone knew that. But then again, I'd ended up in a world with ghosts and magic. Who's to say tarot cards weren't real here too?

I stared down at the image of a lone sword, topped with a crown, painted on the last card. It looked harmless enough, but with the way my luck was going, I expected only bad things.

"The Ace of Swords reversed." Again, the boy watched me for a moment before saying, "Confusion, brutality, chaos. It won't be a good time to make decisions as chances of failure are high." He touched the edge of the Death card with his fingertips and, with his gaze still on me, said, "If you were hoping to leave Hogwarts on a good note, the cards aren't with you."

I forced myself to smile as if this was all some big joke. Adding just a hint of scorn to my voice, I asked, "That's your reading of the cards, oh great diviner?"

"Your year began like shit, you'll make some changes, and then the rest of your year is still going to be shit." He picked up the three cards and shuffled them back into the deck. "I'll ask how my seventh year's going to go as well. We'll see if it's better than yours."

I took the deck from him, but then hesitated and asked, "Do you want to shuffle?"

"I just did."

"Oh, right." I ran my hand lightly over the deck, tracing the yellow brush strokes that made up the stars. Then, I flipped up the first card. Facing me was a man with a red hair, carrying two long sticks. Relief filled my chest. This was one of the cards Vablatsky had drawn in her demonstration, the Two of Wands.

I placed the second card on the table. This one bore the image of a man with his back turned to eight golden chalices. The Eight of Cups, I supposed, though I had no idea what its meaning could be. The last card was the familiar specter, the skeleton carrying a scythe. The Death card.

"The Two of Wands reversed." My voice was strong and confident. I remembered what Vablatsky had said about the card during her explanation. "A lack of planning that places you in disarray and prevents you from moving forward. I guess you haven't thought much about this year or what you'll do after." The last part was a guess, but the boy nodded his head ever so slightly, so I assumed I must be right in part.

I tapped the next card with my index finger as I flipped through the pages of my textbook. I tried to keep my movements natural, as if it was only normal that I'd forget what the card meant. "The Eight of Cups reversed. You're 'drifting in a sea of uncertainty.' You do not know what path to take, or you do know and fear of change prevents you from doing so—isn't this the same as the Two of Wands?"

"The Wands has to do with preventing progression, while the Cups has to do with fear of leaving the familiar," he said. Clearly, he had done his homework.

"Either way, you haven't moved forward in the past and you aren't moving forward now." I tapped the final card and said, "Death upright. Beginnings, change, transformation." I repeated the words he'd used to describe it earlier. "But you're _going_ to change."

"It's reversed," he said.

I blinked and looked at the card again. I'd been so happy to see the familiar card, I'd just repeated the boy's reading rather than read it from his point of view. Death reversed. From the sound of it, the reversed cards had the opposite meaning of the upright. So then, Death reversed would be…

"Are you kidding me?" I said. For a moment, all thoughts of pretending to be Marlene and acting as if I knew Divination disappeared, and I could only glare at the three cards on the table. "How did you manage to get all three cards against change? What kind of—" _witchcraft is this_. I finished the sentence in my head.

Though he wore a faint smile, there was something disingenuous about the way the boy looked at me. He picked up the cards and shuffled them back into the deck.

He's a future Death Eater, I reminded myself. He grew up in an arrogant, pureblood family, befriended a bunch of arrogant, pureblood arseholes, and would become an arrogant, pureblood Death Eater hellbent on erasing muggles and muggleborns. Unchanging, unquestioning, stagnant.

Suddenly, he held out the deck to me. "You read again."

"I just went." I tried to keep my voice calm and even. I'd barely managed to get through that tarot reading with dumb luck, and now he wanted me to do another.

"I have a question I want to ask," he said.

 _Then wait your turn_ , I wanted to snap at him. Class was almost over, and I could read the entire Divination textbook with the help of the diadem before next class. But I couldn't think of a good reason to say no without causing a scene, so I took the deck from him and asked, "What do you want to know?"

"How's my mum doing?"

My eyes narrowed. What kind of a question was that? Was he some kind of ma's boy? What was up with this demanding arsehole?

I flipped up the first card. It bore the image of a knight on a chestnut mare, holding a stick above his head. The Knight of Wands, I supposed.

I could feel the boy's gaze on me as I revealed the second card. A lone man in a dark red robe, surrounded by almost a dozen sticks. Another Wand card, though I didn't have time to count how many.

The third card was upside down, but the skeleton carrying the scythe stared up at me again through empty eye sockets. Death again.

"The Knight of Wands upright," I said.

I reached for my textbook, flipping through the pages, but before I could find the entry on the Knight of Wands, the boy said, "Action, adventure, fearlessness."

My head jerked up and I met his gaze. His eyes were unreadable as I stammered over my words, "Y-your ma used to be the adventuresome sort." I hoped that was a right guess. I couldn't imagine what else the cards were saying about his ma's past. I quickly looked at the next card. Counting the number of sticks as quickly as I could, I said, "The Eight of Wands upright."

"The Nine of Wands," he corrected. "Resilient and determined in the face of obstacles."

What did he want? I couldn't understand him. What was the point of making me do this reading? What was the point of his question?

"Your ma is facing some trial," I guessed. "She's determined to overcome it."

His mouth was drawn in a tight line as he stared across the table at me.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. This wasn't right. I knew it. But I didn't know how to fix it.

We were interrupted by Professor Vablatsky's husky voice as she said, "I'm handing back your essays from last week. Overall, you all did an excellent job. I graded them at NEWT standard. If you aren't happy with the grade you achieved please come speak with me after class."

The last card, I knew. I didn't need help from him or the book to know it's meaning. "Death reversed. Whatever trial your ma's facing, even if she overcomes it, it won't change anything."

A heavy silence followed my words. This time, I met his gaze full on. I'd done it. I'd gotten through the second tarot reading with minimal mistakes. What more did he want from me? What was this about?

And then, he said, "My mum died last year, remember, McKinnon?"

I fucked up.

"You both did a great job." Vablatsky's deep voice cut through the silence as she placed the essays on the table in front of us. I managed a quickly look at the top of the boy's essay before he shoved it into his bookbag along with his textbook. Even if he'd been trying to hide it, in that split second, I'd seen. The name, in spiky black letters, burned in my mind: Evan Rosier.

He left without another glance at me. As I watched the future Death Eater disappear through the trapdoor, a sense of foreboding settled in my heart.

I didn't know why, but I had just undergone a test. And I'd failed miserably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the chapter naming theme finally comes into play. I am in no way an expert in tarot (besides a roommate who was obsessed), and I did a lot of research on card meanings and layouts. So hopefully it makes sense (let me know if it doesn't).
> 
> Please leave a comment!


	5. Two of Wands Upright

**PART ONE: IN VITAM**

* * *

**Chapter V: Two of Wands Upright**

By Friday morning, I no longer vomited after using the diadem. It was still by no means a pleasant experience, and my head throbbed after wearing the diadem for long periods of time. Thankfully, Lily noticed I'd been suffering from headaches every morning and brewed me a potion to cure them.

I knew I'd have to take a break from the diadem soon. Using it for hours on end every day couldn't be good for me. But…there was still so much to learn. I had just made it halfway through the first-year coursework and some of the second-year spellwork. My progress had slowed down considerably now that I had to do readings and essays for my current classes as well.

One upside to Marlene's schedule was that her Friday mornings were completely free of classes, which of course meant I could hole myself away in the Room of Requirement. After taking a couple gulps from the flask Lily had given me, I put on the diadem, opened up the Divination textbook, and began preparing for my second meeting with Evan Rosier.

I dreaded it. I could still remember his stare, following my every movement. The knowing glint in his eyes… If I could drop Divination and spend the rest of the year avoiding him, I would. Unfortunately, dropping the class would only increase his and everyone else's suspicions. Why would Marlene McKinnon suddenly choose to stop taking Divination?

No, I would just have to keep returning to the North Tower and hope I had studied enough to fool Rosier.

A little before noon, I put away the diadem, followed Helena's directions to the library, and then made my way down to the Great Hall for lunch. Lily found me outside the double doors, and she led me over to the Gryffindor table where Mary and Dorcas were helping themselves to sandwiches and cooked vegetables. I took the seat beside Mary, while Lily settled on the bench opposite.

Mary had a piece of parchment in front of her, and she held a large, feathered quill in her right hand as she wrote something in black ink. I could see the words "Dear Reggie" written at the top of the paper and a few words like "miss" and "love" stood out from the rest of her cursive handwriting. She wrote to either a boyfriend or a family member, I guessed.

"How's Reggie doing?" asked Lily as she scooped a spoonful of steamed carrots onto her plate.

"Good." Mary glanced up from her letter and gave a big, soppy smile. Boyfriend then. "He's learning a lot at his internship. He says hello, by the way."

"Hello, Reggie," said Dorcas, speaking at the piece of parchment.

"Does he think he's going to stay at the Ministry after?" asked Lily.

"I don't know," said Mary. "He really enjoys what he's doing—examining continuous spells and finding ways to strength and repair them—but who knows how long he can do that, what with the war going on."

Lily grimaced, and Mary seemed to grow upset at her own words. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles turning white.

"What about you, Marlene?" asked Dorcas. She turned to me with a wide, forced smile.

"What about me?" I asked.

"How are things going with Sirius? Any progress?"

To say I was surprised was an understatement. I almost dropped my sandwich as I gawked across the table at Dorcas. Of course, I really shouldn't have been surprised at that point. There was so much Marlene hadn't told me about the previous seventeen years of her life that it wouldn't have been shocking if she turned out to be a selkie. Still, I hadn't expected her to have not-so-secretly fancied Sirius Black, and I had to give a little, fake cough to hide my mistake.

"What? That?" I gave a small laugh. "I guess, I, uh, got over him during the summer holidays."

"Really?" asked Mary, who at least was no longer worrying about her boyfriend. "You mean no more fawning over Sirius's ' _gorgeous_ hair'?" She ran a hand through her own dark hair and batted her eyelashes at me.

I was embarrassed for Marlene. For her sake, I sincerely hoped she hadn't raved about Sirius's hair to her friends _that_ much. "You know, I don't find shag cuts that attractive anymore."

Lily hid a laugh behind her hand. Her face was pink when she looked back up at me and said, "It's all right to still admit he's fit. Even I think his hair is gorgeous."

She and Mary glanced at one another and then they both collapsed in a fit of barely suppressed giggles.

"Well, I'm proud of you," said Dorcas. "I knew your taste in men had to improve some time."

When her laughter finally died off, Mary resurfaced and said, "Getting over Sirius Black is part of growing up." She let out a dramatic sigh. "Remember the little spats we'd have over Sirius back in fourth year?"

I nodded because I didn't know what else to do.

Dorcas smirked. "And then he dated Angelice Codde." She threw a joking glare in the direction of the Ravenclaw table.

I figured I was supposed to follow suit, and I scowled over my shoulder even though I had no idea who I was supposed to be looking at.

"She's happily snogging Eddie Park every chance she gets now," said Dorcas after taking a sip of her pumpkin juice.

"Oh?" Lily leaned forward eagerly. "When did this happen?"

Dorcas shrugged. "I've seen them a few times outside the Hufflepuff common room. Eddie turns bright red every time I catch them."

Mary and Lily laughed, and I smiled along with them. I was being far too quiet in this conversation, but I knew none of the people involved in the gossip. I took a big bite of the sandwich, chewing and giving myself time to think of something I could contribute.

"So, Lily," I said at last, "any progress with James?"

Lily let out a frustrated sigh. "Why would there be any progress?"

"The sooner you admit you fancy him," said Dorcas, "the sooner we'll all be at ease. J—"

"Shush," hissed Lily. "They're coming."

I looked down the length of the Gryffindor table and quickly spotted the four boys making their way towards us. James had a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes, while Peter had his head slightly bent. Remus and Sirius walked a little behind the other two, having an intense conversation.

James grinned at Lily as he slid into the seat next to her. My attention was on Lily, her ears starting to turn pink, when Peter sat down next to me and Sirius beside him. I wrinkled my nose when I caught sight of Sirius as his "gorgeous" black hair out of the corner of my eye. Thankfully, Sirius leaned forward and continued his discussion with Remus, and I didn't have to force myself to have a normal conversation with him.

I'd been a fan of Sirius Black when I'd read the books, and I'd probably have listed him among my favorite characters. But now that I'd met him in person and had a couple conversations with him, there were aspects of Sirius's in equal parts charming and arrogant personality that unsettled me and brought back memories of an ex I'd rather forget.

Peter was also someone I had a hard time talking to, though of course, for a completely different reason. Every time I looked at his wide, brown eyes and cheeks that hadn't yet lost their baby fat, I remembered that he would murder twelve people and blame Sirius for the crime. He would then spend the next thirteen years as a rat before returning to Voldemort's side and helping him regain a body. How could someone fall so far, change so much? What could make him abandon his friends so completely? Why would he choose Voldemort and the Death Eaters?

I took a sip from my goblet of pumpkin juice. Around me, Marlene's friends and the Marauders chatted happily. Remus and Sirius were discussing an article they'd read in the _Daily Prophet_. James animatedly told Lily about an encounter he'd just had with Professor Slughorn, while Dorcas and Mary compared Care of Magical Creatures essays. It was only Peter and me that sat in silence.

He would regret it, in the end, I reminded myself. That's why the gifted silver hand had strangled him. It had sensed his remorse. _He would regret it, in the end_. And with that thought, I turned to Peter and asked, "How's your day?"

Peter looked a little startled that I'd address him. He glanced down at his plate of untouched food and then back up at me. "Oh, uh, all right."

My plan, of course, had been to not get involved with other people's personal matters, but for Peter, I would make an exception.

"You look pale." I nodded towards his plate. "You should eat."

Peter bit him bottom lip. Then, he picked up his fork and ate one of the steamed carrots from his plate.

"That hardly counts," I muttered.

Peter gave me the barest smile. "Sorry. I'm not very hungry."

I understood that feeling all too well. Somewhere near the beginning of secondary school, I'd lost my taste for food. I would sit on the school grounds and watch as my friends enjoyed their lunches. Finally, one of them started bringing something a little extra for me every day and insisting that I eat at least that.

"It's important," I said. "We still have a long afternoon of classes. You don't want to run out of energy in Professor Shafiq's class."

Peter shuddered at the thought of the strict Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He took a bigger bite of steamed carrots. He saw me watching him and, blushing, said, "I'll eat, I'll eat."

"Good." I smiled as I turned back to my own half-eaten plate. That was my first one-on-one conversation with Peter Pettigrew. If I hadn't read the _Harry Potter_ books, I certainly wouldn't have thought of him as a future mass murderer. I glanced sidelong at the small boy nibbling at his lunch beside me. That was the trick of it, wasn't it? You didn't always know which ones would turn out to be Death Eaters.

When he caught me staring, Peter took an even bigger bite, making a show of it for my sake. Smiling, I helped myself to my sandwich.

"Do you have a class after lunch?" asked Peter.

I frowned at him, my mouth full of food.

"None of us have one," said Peter quickly. "So we were talking about going down to the lake, and I thought… because you haven't hung out with us in awhile…" He trailed off. To cover his awkwardness, he stuffed his mouth with mushy peas, which of course only made things more awkward.

"Sorry," I said. "It sounds like a good time, but I have Divination next period."

"Oh." With a wry smile, Peter said, "You don't sound thrilled."

I fought back a laugh. That was the understatement of the year. "Preparing for battle" was probably the best description of how I felt right then.

I had studied the tarot cards while wearing the diadem. I had spent hours examining the photographs on the wall behind Marlene's bed, memorizing the faces that appeared, figuring out who were friends and who were family. Dorcas and Lily appeared the most times on the wall. Followed by Mary and then a tall, auburn-haired boy who I assumed was Marlene's younger brother, Hartley. James was on there a surprising number of times. There was one photo even I found charming of James and Marlene in their Quidditch gear, covering in mud and laughing. It seemed the Hufflepuff Quidditch team had won the cup twice while Marlene played for them. There was also a picture of Marlene and Hartley at a game holding a black banner with the white words "Montrose Magpies", so I figured they were fans. I had done everything I could to be prepared for whatever trick questions Rosier might throw at me, and still— _still_ —it didn't feel like enough.

"I don't know why you insisted on taking NEWT Divination," said Sirius. He spoke with a drawl that tried and failed to conceal his posh London accent.

"You could have had a free period with the rest of us," said Lily, looking away from her conversation with James.

"It's interesting," I said. There was some truth to these words. In my own world, I believed things like fortune-telling to be a pile of cow shit, but here, I knew that some prophecies and predictions turned out to be true. Despite the threat of Rosier hanging over me, I'd enjoyed learning about the meanings of the tarot cards. "I won't ever be a great Seer or anything like that, but there's something fascinating about reading the cards predicting the future."

Sirius grimaced. "If you say so."

"My Divination partner is the worst, though." I said the words casually, allowing the slightest hint of genuine annoyance to show, but my eyes scanned the faces of Marlene's friends, searching out their reactions. Remus and Mary nodded along with my words, while Lily looked uncomfortable. I wondered if it was because Rosier hung out in the same group as Snape.

"Rosier is a prat," said Dorcas. "What else is new?"

"Isn't his da one of those high-ranking Ministry officials?" asked Mary. "The type that pay their way out of everything."

"Did he do something to you, Marle?" asked James with narrowed eyes.

"We just have to find him in a dark corridor…" began Sirius.

Remus scoffed. "You're going to hex Rosier?"

"Is that a challenge?" asked James.

"That's why the corridor has to be dark," said Sirius. "So we have the element of surprise."

Peter nodded along with Sirius's words.

"You're going to sneak up on him?" asked Dorcas. "What kind of Gryffindors are you?"

"The smart kind," said Sirius.

"You're not going to hex Rosier," said Lily, snapping into her Head Girl voice.

There was in something in their tones that was full of meaning, but I couldn't figure out what it was. From the way they spoke, I was supposed to understand _why_ they needed a dark corridor to hex Rosier. I bit back my questions. Asking would only raise suspicions.

Lily turned to me with a slight frown. "You usually say he's an all right bloke. Did something happen?"

"Uh, no." I took a sip of pumpkin juice to hide the surprise. Marlene hadn't hated Rosier? The future Death Eater? Had I read the whole situation wrong? I'd assumed that Marlene would hate his type and I'd treated Rosier with cold-dislike in our last meeting, but maybe that wasn't right.

"Well, Divination partners are like that," said Remus. "That's how Emmeline and I got to be such good mates."

"And how Sophie started dating Ludovic Bagman," added Mary.

James pulled a face. "Even so… Is Rosier worth defending, Marlene?"

"You shouldn't talk," said Lily, prodding his shoulder. "You don't know how many times she's defended _you_."

James grinned. He placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head towards me. "For which I am deeply grateful."

I rolled my eyes. My gaze met Dorcas's, and she looked pointedly at Lily and James. I nodded. Lily may still be in denial, but it would happen soon.

"I should head to Divination," I said, gathering my things. I could feel the hard edge of the diadem as I slung the enchanted bag over my shoulder.

"Have fun," said Peter with a warm smile.

With a wave goodbye to Marlene's friends, I made my way out of the Great Hall and up to the North Tower. Time to see if my studying was enough.

* * *

We were learning a new layout for the tarot cards in Divination that day: the five-card spread. It was a simple pattern, but unlike the three-card spread, it focused on the outcomes of possible courses of action. After a lecture from Professor Vablatsky, we turned to our partners and started reading the cards. I volunteered to go first. I did everything perfectly. I lifted the cards by the edges, keeping the bottom of the deck turned so that neither of us could glance at it. I overhand shuffled the cards so as not to bend them. I let him cut the deck before I set them neatly on the dark violet table cloth in front of me. Then, with baited breath, I waited for his question.

"What will happen if I don't do my coursework this weekend?"

It was a benign question. Easily asked and just as easily answered. My hand dropped to the table, leaving the deck untouched, and I met his dark eyes with a scowl. His mouth curled up into a half-smirk.

"Are you going to draw the first card?" he asked.

He knew. He knew I'd be prepared this class. He was messing me around. He had to know by now that I wasn't Marlene McKinnon. But how could he? Uncertain, he was probably uncertain. And he was using this class to trick the truth out of me. I had to make that uncertainty grow. I had to make him believe that maybe I really was Marlene McKinnon.

I drew five cards and, without looking at the book, read his fortune. I gave answers as pointless as the question he had asked, and then I slid the deck over to him so he could practice.

The next few questions, from both him and me, were useless. What will happen if I drop Divination? What will happen if I tell my friend her haircut is ugly? What will happen if I don't go home for the holidays? All questions meant for the five-card spread, but all utterly useless in learning about Rosier. I wanted to throw the deck of beautifully hand-painted tarot cards in his face. After all that practice and all that stress, he was going to make this easy for me. What a twally-washer.

"What will happen if I follow in my father's footsteps?"

Rosier's question caused my head to jerk up. Our eyes met. His left eyebrow was quirked slightly higher than the other, daring me to ask him more. As if I would give him the satisfaction. I said nothing as I set the deck of cards down between us.

What was he thinking? Surely, he wouldn't ask such a dangerous question in the middle of Divination class. His da was a Death Eater. Was he really asking on Hogwarts grounds if he should join the ranks of Voldemort's followers? This was another test, slipped in after all those pointless questions had lowered my guard.

I tried to piece together the little things I knew about Marlene. Lily had said Marlene usually defended Rosier to her friends, even if they thought he wasn't someone who needed protection. Rosier obviously hung out with Snape and the other future Death Eaters at Hogwarts. Had Marlene been stupid or willfully blind? Of course, she was a Hufflepuff. Maybe I just didn't understand how Hufflepuffs worked. Maybe she hoped that just as you didn't always know who was going to become Death Eaters, you didn't always know who _wouldn't_ become Death Eaters.

Keeping one hand on the top of the tarot deck, I made a choice and prayed to whatever god might have been listening that it was the right one.

"No." I met his gaze with a grim, steady stare. "You will _not_ follow in your da's footsteps."

Rosier tilted his head ever so slightly to the right. "Aren't the tarot cards supposed to tell me that?"

"I don't need tarot cards for this."

"Why not?"

"Because we're friends." I tried to force truth into this lie. He had to believe me. I needed him to believe me. "And I know if you made that choice, you will come to regret it."

We stared at one another. I tried my best to look confident and self-righteous, to convey the emotions I thought the real Marlene would feel. I believed that we were friends. We'd been Divination partners for over a year now, and over that time we'd talked about our pasts, our present, and our futures. We knew each other. I knew this wasn't the right path for him. Believe me. I needed him to believe.

The corners of Rosier's mouth curled downwards. But his stare didn't look annoyed. In fact, it—

"Whatever is the matter, you two?"

The sharp voice of Professor Vablatsky cut through the silence, and both Rosier and I jumped in our seats. Rosier banged his leg against one of the table legs. He held back a curse as he rubbed his shin. I couldn't help but be pleased to see that at least he wasn't infallible.

Rosier noticed the smug smile that had worked its way onto my face, and he turned to Vablatsky and said, "Apologies, Professor. McKinnon strongly feels I shouldn't follow in my father's footsteps and take a job at the Ministry after school."

My smile vanished.

"Well," said Vablatsky, sounding thoroughly annoyed, "no matter your political views, Miss McKinnon, you should let the cards answer Mister Rosier's question. That _is_ why you have taken this class, is it not?"

I gave the barest nod of my head. "Yes, Professor."

"Thank you." And with that, Vablatsky left us.

I watched her walk away, her dark blue robes swaying over the wooden floor of the Divination classroom. I didn't want to face Rosier. Not yet. I knew he'd have that arrogant look in his dark eyes because he knew he'd tricked me again. The answer seemed obvious now. Marlene hadn't known his da was a Death Eater. They'd probably talked about the Ministry job before. Hell, even Mary had known about his da's high-ranking Ministry job. She'd given me the answer a lunch today. Marlene wouldn't have assumed Rosier was contemplating becoming a murderous disciple of Voldemort. Rosier had known that. I hadn't.

"Are you all right, McKinnon?" he asked.

Slowly, I dragged my gaze back to him. He wasn't smiling, but his eyes blazed with triumph.

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth. "I'll read the tarot cards for you."

"Do you really think I'll regret joining the Ministry?" he asked, his tone light and mocking.

"I do." I had dug my grave. Now, I was going to have to commit and hope I could do enough to keep Rosier from burying me in it. "I don't think you're the Ministry type, and it'd make you miserable."

"Not the Ministry type?"

I nodded. "You don't follow the rules."

For a second, Rosier looked as though he didn't know how to respond. Then, he grinned. A mad grin that didn't quite reach his eyes and sent shivers down my spine. His head tilted slightly to the right as he said, in a low, almost inaudible voice, "That makes two of us, then, McKinnon."

* * *

"What is wrong with that prick?" I asked as I slammed the door to the Room of Requirement shut behind me. Night had finally come. I no longer had to pretend like everything was "all right" for Marlene's friends. Now, they were somewhere in the Great Hall, enjoying an evening without a mountain of homework looming over their heads. Meanwhile, I was once again in the Room of Requirement with a snooty ghost, a cursed diadem, and the threat of Evan Rosier hanging over my head.

"I hope the knobdobber spends a lifetime in Azkaban when they catch him _and_ his da."

Helena drifted in front of me, her head tilted slightly to the side as she listened to me rant. "Who are you talking about?"

"And _Marlene_ ," I said, "what was she thinking? She didn't tell me _anything_. Just a few sentences about her family, but she didn't tell me any of the important stuff. She didn't tell me about her morning runs with James Potter, about her future Death Eater Divination partner, about her fantasies of shagging Sirius Black and his _gorgeous_ hair…"

How many more details had Marlene left out? She didn't think to tell me anything beyond the tidbits about her family and whatever Helena could remember? What was I supposed to do with that? Had Marlene really believed I'd manage to skate by with so little information? Did she think I could just guess the last seventeen years of her life? Did she think the books titled _Harry Potter_ had been focused on her? She was barely a side character. Reading a couple mentions in a series of seven books did not mean I could passably pretend to be her.

I dropped my bag onto the floor of the Room of Requirement and then collapsed into the armchair in front of the mahogany desk. I stared at the shelves of spellbooks to my left, my gaze skimming over the colorful spines. There was still so much magic that I didn't know. The few books I'd gotten through this week weren't enough. I needed to learn faster, or someone was going to figure me out… If Rosier hadn't already…

"There's no way," I muttered. "No way he could know. None of Marlene's friends have noticed. But how could he not? He'd be a fucking idiot not to notice at this point."

"Who are you talking about?" asked Helena again. She hovered beside the desk, her lips pursed together in annoyance as she looked down at me.

"Asking me about his ma, pretending that she's alive," I grumbled. "And today, he asked me about his da, tricking me into revealing I know his da's a Death Eater. I hope the dementors make them both miserable."

"Your Divination partner?" Helena ventured a guess.

I nodded, still staring a bookshelves.

"Do you think he knows you are not Marlene?"

"He must. Or at least strongly suspects."

"And you are certain his father is a Death Eater?" asked Helena.

I leaned back in the armchair and watched as Helena drifted through the mahogany desk. With a sigh, I said, "Yes. And I'm certain he'll be one too. He hangs out with a crowd that will all become Death Eaters, and his surname is the same. 'Rosier' was definitely a Death Eater."

"Rosier," repeated Helena. "Evan Rosier?"

My head jerked up at that. Helena didn't seem like the type to take interest in any of the students—apart, of course, from those who did "interesting" things like finding her mother's diadem.

Helena noticed my reaction and said in haughty tones, "I have lived in this school for a hundred years. Of course I would remember a student like Evan Rosier."

I was missing something. Wasn't that always the way of it? At least, with Helena, I didn't have to pretend to know and could ask upright: "What's the deal with Rosier?"

"He is the school's dueling champion," said Helena, "and has been for four years."

"Four…years?" I repeated the words as I did the math in my head. "He's been dueling champion since his…third year."

"Yes," said Helena. "Of course, the entire school will pay attention when a third year beats someone a seventh year for the title. He has tied Alastor Moody's record for longest reigning champion, and if he wins the title again this year, Rosier alone will hold the school record."

Alastor Moody. Rosier. I never would've remembered if Helena hadn't used those names together. Mad-Eye Moody had told a story at some point. I forgot which _Harry Potter_ book it'd been in, but the Death Eater who had taken a chunk out of Moody's nose had been named Evan Rosier. Through a foggy cloud, the little snippets I could remember about Rosier came drifting back to me. The Death Eater who'd rather die in a blaze of magic than be sent to Azkaban.

That was who I'd made enemies of: Hogwarts' four times dueling champion, the man who would hold his own again Mad-Eye Moody, and definitely a future Death Eater. Fucking spectacular. This kept getting better and better. Why couldn't Marlene have had a plain, inconsequential Divination partner? Why did it have to be Evan Rosier?

"What happened?" asked Helena.

I snapped out of my thoughts and looked up at her. "Uh, nothing much. Just brooding."

"Hm." Helena's gray eyes remained fixed on me as she moved to hover beside the armchair. She watched me, probably taking in the shadows under my eyes and the paleness of my skin. It'd been a rough week, and I hadn't taken as good of care of Marlene's body as I should've. However, rather than comment on that, Helena hesitated before asking, "Have you given any thought as to how you will save Marlene's family?"

I still wasn't certain how much I could trust Helena. She had accompanied me to the Room of Requirement every night that week and watched as I used the diadem. Helena would hover behind me, commenting on my essays and asking if the side effects of the diadem had faded. I felt like little more than a study, and it certainly didn't make me want to trust her. However, she knew so much already that if she wanted to mess me over, she didn't need any more information to do so. It probably wouldn't cause _more_ harm if I shared some things with her. And, perhaps, she could help me.

I drummed my fingers on the leather armrests as I spoke. "I don't know exactly when the McKinnon family will die. I know little details, like it will happen sometime in 1980 or 1981, after a certain photograph of the Order of the Phoenix is taken."

"The Order of the Phoenix," repeated Helena. She spoke the words with familiarity.

"You've heard of it?"

"Here and there," said Helena. "Whispers of professors. Some students join when they graduate, I know. Dumbledore is in charge of it, is he not?"

I nodded. "In the story I know, Marlene joins the Order along with her friends. I don't know if her joining the Order is related to why Voldemort kills her family."

"Could you not join the Order, then?" asked Helena.

I had considered this. An easy escape. Marlene hadn't asked me to save her friends. Only her family. I could avoid the Order, take her family as far away from the danger as need be and then consider my promise fulfilled once infant Harry Potter defeated Voldemort. It was probably the easiest solution. And yet…I couldn't do it.

"If I'm going to do this," I said. "I'm going to do this properly."

"What is 'properly'?" asked Helena.

I hesitated. I wasn't entirely certain what "properly" meant either. However, if Marlene had wanted to simply take her family away from harm, she could have done so herself. She wanted me to find a more nuanced solution. Besides, running away with her family was too drastic at the moment. I was still a student at Hogwarts. No one would take me seriously. They probably send me to St. Mungo's if I started ranting about their impending deaths and needing to flee Great Britain.

"Do you want to save them all? Even her friends?" asked Helena. Her voice was flat, as if she was purposefully trying to keep her emotions hidden.

I shook my head. The task sounded even more ridiculous when Helena voiced it aloud. Save them all? This was a war against Voldemort, and I barely knew the first-year spells. What could I hope to accomplish?

"If I change one thing," I said, "it could change everything. Saving the McKinnons could throw the entire world out of balance." I had seen time travel movies before. Maybe real life would be different, but they were all I had for guidance. "And if I change certain things now, while in school, perhaps the deaths of Marlene's family will never come about."

"Or perhaps they will die sooner."

Helena's words bit into me like ice. She was right, of course. I could change nothing, yes, but I could also change everything. Perhaps I could save James and Lily, but it was equally possible that I could accidentally prevent Harry Potter from becoming the Boy Who Lived. What if, with all my meddling, I ended up accidentally securing Voldemort's victory?

I closed my eyes and pressed my index fingers to my temples. Too much. I was thinking too much. I had to focus. I didn't need to save anyone but the McKinnons. The others… Their faces flashed before my eyes. Lily blushing when Mary teased her about her Head Girl duties with James. Dorcas smiling shyly at Jenn as they did homework together in the common room. James grinning at me as he bragged about how good the Gryffindor Quidditch team would be this year…

Marlene hadn't asked me to save them. And they were central characters to the story of Harry Potter. Saving James or Lily, or sparing Sirius from Azkaban, could completely upturn the events that would lead to Harry defeating Voldemort.

No. I couldn't do that. I needed to focus on saving the McKinnons.

"There's not much I can do while still in school," I said at last. "My priority should be to learn magic. I won't be able to save anyone if I can't cast a proper stunning spell."

Helena didn't dispute this point.

"But…" I hesitated. "I was thinking…" I bit the inside of my cheeks. I didn't trust Helena, but I also couldn't do this alone. She knew too much already—what difference could a little more make? I took a deep breath before saying, "One member of the Order betrays James and Lily Potter."

"Oh, they get married then?" asked Helena. "The Fat Friar will be pleased to learn he won his bet."

I decided it was best not to ask. "He joins the Death Eaters, and when the Potters make him their secret keeper, he gives up his friends to Voldemort." I was surprised at the anger in my voice.

Helena pursed her lips, and then asked, "Who is this traitor?"

I had already gone this far. "Peter Pettigrew."

Disbelief flashed through Helena's eyes. However, she didn't question the truth behind my words. "And what will you do about this?"

Right now, Peter was the quiet and awkward member of the Marauders, the sweet boy who devotedly followed James and Sirius around. I didn't know when he would make the decision to turn to Voldemort, but from what I'd read in the books, it would happen after he joined the Order. That gave me at least a year.

"Taking any dramatic action against Peter right now will only make people suspicious," I said. "He's still loyal to his friends, at the moment."

"Will you leave him there to betray the Order when the time comes?" asked Helena. She couldn't keep the distaste from her voice.

"No. I'm going to befriend him."

That must have been one of the last things Helena expected me to say, because her gray eyes got very wide.

"He regrets his choice, in the end," I said. I didn't add that it happened almost two decades later. "Perhaps if he does join the Death Eaters, I'll be able to stop him from sharing any information that would get members of the Order killed." I didn't voice aloud the vain hope that perhaps I could stop him from making the choice altogether.

"You would kill him?" asked Helena. She sounded skeptical.

I stared at my hands, at the long fingers that were mine but also not mine. "You don't necessarily need to kill someone to stop them. But, yes, if I had to, I would."

Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Helena lower herself so that her feet looked as though they were on the ground. "You are very different from Marlene."

In my opinion, that went without saying.

"There are two others," I continued, "who regret choosing Voldemort's side. They'll be much harder to convince than Peter Pettigrew, however."

"That is your plan?" asked Helena. "To befriend Death Eaters and hope that they will value your friendship enough to not betray you?"

"The ones I know will switch sides regardless." I gritted my teeth, annoyed at the scorn in Helena's voice. "They're already weak links. If I can convince them to switch sides sooner…or never choose Voldemort in the first place, then maybe it will help me save Marlene's family when the time comes. If they give me even a scrap of information more, then it may be worth it."

Helena still looked doubtful.

"I _can_ befriend people," I muttered.

"Hm." Helena wasn't convinced in the slightest. "And who are these two turncoats?"

"Severus Snape and Regulus Black."

Helena's eyes narrowed as she ran those names through the list of students she knew. "Slytherins, and one descended from the ancient house of Black." She scoffed. "Are you certain he will regret joining the Death Eaters?"

"Yes." Regulus was the only one of the three I hadn't seen yet. Peter was easy to talk to, as he was part of Marlene's friend group. Snape lurked in the back of classrooms with the rest of the future Death Eater gang. I'd seen him having conversations with Rosier between classes, and every once in a while, I'd catch Snape staring in Lily's direction. But Regulus wasn't in the same year as me, and he kept a wide berth of his brother, Sirius. I couldn't even use the books as a guide to figure out who he was.

"Regulus will betray the Death Eaters shortly after joining, and Snape will turn to Dumbledore after Peter's betrayal of James and Lily." In that time, Regulus would find Slytherin's locket and leave the note signed R.A.B. My gaze drifted down to the enchanted bookbag that rested at the foot of the armchair. Had Voldemort made Slytherin's locket a horcrux in this world? He must have. Had he stored it in the cave, hidden in the basin and surrounded by corpses? Just as he'd hidden the diadem in the Room of Requirement, he'd gone into the cave and stored a part of his soul there…

My throat felt tight, as if a cold hand had grabbed hold and started to squeeze. I closed my eyes and focused on deep, even breaths. Never forget to breathe. This was my life now. The other option was lying on the road, life slowly bleeding out of me onto the asphalt. The tightness in my throat eased up, and my breathing returned to normal.

Helena hovered beside me, watching and analyzing. Only when our eyes met, did she ask, "Are you all right?"

"Fine." My voice was thick.

She hesitated and then asked, "How are you going to approach and befriend two Slytherins?"

I leaned back in the armchair. I raised a careful hand to my throat and ran my fingers across the smooth skin. "That's where I need your help, Helena."

Helena's eyes narrowed. She could guess what I wanted. "You want me to study them?"

"Yes. I need to find a way in, a way to make them trust me and want to befriend me."

Helena drifted backwards, her slippers lifting off the stone floor. "Are you certain this will help save Marlene's family?"

I wasn't certain of anything, but I couldn't think of another course of action right then. My hands were tied while I was still a student at Hogwarts, trying to catch up on seven years' worth of magic. But I couldn't spend a year doing nothing.

I stared up at Helena and said, "When the time comes, I'll be ready."

For the first time, Helena didn't look the impartial observer. There was something torn in her dark, gray eyes as if she was fighting back tears, though I didn't think ghosts could cry. Then, she blinked and the emotion that had moments before threatened to overflow just disappeared. "Then, I will help you."

"Thanks."

She turned away from me, showing the back of her pale corset and long gown. She drifted to the edge of the mahogany desk and extended a hand, as if to touch the wood. But when her fingers were barely a millimeter away from the edge of the desk, she drew her hand back. "What will you do about Evan Rosier?"

I fought back a sigh. What to do? I felt trapped, the walls of the Room of Requirement closing in around me. Rosier seemed like someone who'd be difficult to fool even if I'd had an entire book to read on the life story of Marlene McKinnon. The gap between what he knew and what I knew was too large. If he truly believed I wasn't Marlene, then I didn't know any way I could convince him otherwise.

"I'm going to have to learn some defensive spells this weekend," I said at last. "Though I doubt it'd make much difference against Hogwarts' dueling champion."

"Of course not." Helena's usual snobbish voice had returned.

With a plan of sorts laid out before me, I leaned over and, after rummaging through my enchanted bag for a minute, pulled out the silver diadem and the book I'd picked up from the library earlier: _Quidditch Throughout the Ages_.

"What is that?" asked Helena with the slightest hint of mocking her voice.

"I have a morning run with James Potter tomorrow," I said.

I ran my hand over the edge of the diadem. Was a piece of Voldemort's soul really in there? It _had_ to be. The diadem didn't travel from Albania to the Room of Requirement without some help. And that help was Voldemort.

But…it'd been a week of using the diadem every night, and I had yet to see a hint of Voldemort's soul.

I didn't trust the diadem. Not one bit. Unfortunately, I needed it.

And with that grim thought, I placed the diadem on my head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so...She has the beginning of a plan to approach this daunting task.
> 
> How do you think it will go? Will she succeed? Please leave a comment!


	6. Eight of Pentacles Reversed

**PART ONE: IN VITAM**

* * *

**Chapter VI: Eight of Pentacles Reversed**

I woke at the ungodly time of half-past-six in the morning to meet James Potter for a run. As I rolled out of bed and into the exercise clothes I'd found in Marlene's dresser, I hoped James would fall off his stupid broom that he talked about so much. As I stumbled out of the Hufflepuff common room and towards the Great Hall, I recited every insult I could remember from this world and mine. And, as I reached the front doors of the Great Hall and saw James wearing a bright, cheery smile, I muttered every first-year curse and hex I knew under my breath.

"'Morning, Marlene," he said, stretching his arms over his head as he spoke. "Someone got out of the wrong side of the bed."

He wore similar clothes to mine: a collared sports jacket, matching track pants with two stripes down the sides, and a pair of white trainers. The only difference was his tracksuit bore the red and gold colors of Gryffindor while mine had yellow and black for Hufflepuff. There was little to distinguish it, in my opinion, from muggle attire of the time beyond the lion and badgers stamped across the chests of the jackets.

"I got you a crumpet," said James.

He picked up a folded napkin from the feet of a knight statue. I opened the paper and admired the little round, griddle cake with melted butter on it. I mumbled my thanks before taking a massive bite.

James laughed. "The run'll wake you up, Marle."

As I finished off the crumpet, James led the way to the Hogwarts' grounds. We stepped out into the cool, September air and thick, highland fog, and all I could do was say, "Fuck."

James grinned, jogging in one place to keep himself warm. "Awake now?"

"Let's just go," I grumbled.

With a laugh, he started stretching out his arms and legs. I followed suit, copying the stretches from him and trying to remember what I'd been taught in P.E. class.

It was a typical morning in the highlands. A blanket of fog covered everything from the castle walls, to the lake, to the Forbidden Forest. I could barely make out the dark tree line through the gray mist. Everything was damp and chilly, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into my warm, four-poster bed and snuggle deep beneath the covers. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option.

Once we were ready to go, James started off across the school grounds. His trainers left indents in the wet grass as he went. I gave the school doors one last, forlorn look before following him.

At first, the run was miserable. I hated everything about it. My hands were cold, my legs felt stiff, and my body moved sluggishly. I cursed myself for ever agreeing to this. I thought I'd escaped the P.E. hell when I finished secondary school, but here I was, running and suffering all over again.

But then, Marlene's body started to respond to the exercise. The weariness in her muscles, the aching they'd had for the past few days, suddenly seemed to disappear. Her body followed the movements of running with a practiced, mechanical ease. With each pace, her muscles grew more eager. The morning grogginess left me, and slowly, I began to feel the joy of running. It was yet another sharp reminder that, even though I may look the same, I was now a different person.

I couldn't say how long we ran for, but when James collapsed on the dew-coated bank beside the Great Lake, I sat down beside him. With a flick of his wand, James vanished the dew, and we sprawled out on newly dried grass.

There were a few other people out running in the chilly morning. I could make out the green of a group of Slytherins running along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a lone Gryffindor boy moving steadily along the walls of the castle, and on the other side of the lake jogged a pair of dark-haired girls in muggle exercise clothes. A shadow moved beneath the surface of the Great Lake, and every once in awhile, I spotted what looked suspiciously like a tentacle flicking above the gray waters.

James grinned at me. He was spread out on the slope, his legs extended in front of him and his arms propping his torso off the ground. He sat a little in front of me and had to look back to see my face when he spoke. "It feels good to get out and run again, doesn't it?"

"My body's been craving the exercise."

"Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday," said James.

"Huh?"

"My free mornings." James rolled his head from side to side, stretching his neck. "We should run then. Like we used to."

Getting up at such an ungodly hour three times a week was my idea of a nightmare. However, I found myself nodding. It would seem suspicious if I suddenly changed Marlene's habits. Plus, Marlene's body wanted the exercise, and if left to my own devices, I would never go for a single run. It was better to have James to keep me in check. "All right then. Let's do it."

James gave me a warm smile. When he looked up at me, his unruly, dark hair, damp with sweat, fell into his eyes. He shook his head, which only made his hair messier, and then he turned back to the lake to watch the Giant Squid swim backstroke. "I heard you've finally stopped fancying Sirius."

I groaned. I wanted to knock some sense into Marlene. She could do much better than a cad like that. "Who told you that?"

"No one."

It was definitely Lily.

I stared at the back of James's head as I tried to think of a good response. What would Marlene say? Finally, I let out a small sigh and said, "Yeah, I guess I have."

James laughed. "I'll have you know, I said you'd be good for Sirius."

"It's not that I'd be good for Sirius," I muttered. "It's that he'd be bad for me."

"You may be right. So, what caused you to move on? New bloke got your fancy?"

"No." I snorted. As if I had time for that. "It's just…I feel like, with the war… there's more important things going on. That's all."

"I see."

I glanced over at him and asked, "What about you and Lily?"

"I thought you said there were more important things."

"That was about me."

A wide grin spread across James face. "Are you saying Lily and I are different?"

"You are." I meant it. After all, they were the parents of Harry Potter. The fate of the magical world kind of depended on James and Lily getting together. Whereas, it wouldn't make one difference to the world who I shagged.

James let out a long, dramatic sigh and tipped his head back to stare up at the gray sky. "I never know what she's thinking."

"Ask her out, you idiot," I muttered.

"You think I should?" James's hazel eyes were wide as he looked back at me.

"Yes. Next time you're on patrol or something together just ask her to join you in Hogsmeade."

"There's no Hogsmeade visits this year," James reminded me.

"Oh right." Another mistake. Thankfully, it seemed James hadn't taken it as such. He had gone back to staring at the lake, probably considering my advice. I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my arms on top. "You're overthinking it."

"It's only…" James hesitated. "Remember last year?"

Before I could stop myself, I shook my head. I froze, terrified that I'd just admitted to not knowing something I should.

But James didn't seem to notice, and he said, almost as if in a daze, "That was the last time I asked her out. She shut me down so hard. Told me I was arrogant and pigheaded and a bully. She told me that she'd never like me and we'd never even be friends with the way I was going…" He trailed off when the hurt in his voice became too much.

"Well, that wasn't true," I said. "She's obviously at least friends with you now."

"Thanks for that."

From what I could gather, Marlene had played a big role in Lily not completely despising James. She'd probably defended James when Lily had wanted to break off all friendship with him in sixth year. Taking a gamble, I said, "Don't forget, you owe me."

A deep chuckle escaped James. "I won't. And now that Dumbledore's made us Head Boy and Girl, we've been spending even more time together." James let out a long sigh. "She's amazing."

I rolled my eyes skyward, glad that James had his head turned away. He was like a lovesick puppy. I didn't know how his friends had managed to put up with this for four years now. "Ask her out already. One last time—now that your head's deflated a little—can't hurt. If she says no, then she says no and we can all move on with our lives."

"You sound like Sirius."

My face automatically scrunched up, but I only said, "Sirius is giving good advice."

"Sirius at least has dating experience." James looked back at me, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Not all of us spend our years pining after one person."

"You're one to talk."

"Did you forget my brief, torrid affair with Joanna Stebbins last year?"

Obviously, I had. I wondered how badly _that_ had gone, but I didn't dare ask. Instead, I focused on the new tidbit I'd learned: Marlene had never dated anyone before. That was going to be a pain. In my old life, I'd had two boyfriends in secondary school. The first had been significantly better than the second.

And then, I realized. Marlene had never had a boyfriend. So then…I was a virgin all over again.

I buried my face in my hands and let out a heavy sigh.

"You all right, Marle?" asked James.

"Great. Fucking fantastic." Then, realizing that I couldn't exactly tell James Potter that I'd become some sort of born-again virgin, I added, "A midge got me."

James waved his hand about lazily, as if to chase the imaginary midge away, and then said, "Did you see that the Tornadoes beat the Arrows this week?"

The conversation then fell to Quidditch, as I always suspected it would. However, I'd prepared for this. While wearing the diadem, I'd read _Quidditch Throughout the Ages_ as well as the sports pages of several recent _Daily Prophets_ that I'd borrowed from Jenn. I'd also borrowed a book on the history of the Montrose Magpies. I was ready for all of James's questions and comments, and I liked to think I passed this test with flying colors.

Finally, after we had talked about Quidditch for far long than I'd ever thought possible, James and I headed back up to the castle. The sky had gotten lighter, and the fog had faded so that we could now see the outline of the mountains on the other side of the Great Lake.

We passed by the group of Slytherins on our way inside, and I saw some of them throwing dirty looks in our direction. James ignored them, and I followed suit. We walked back to the Great Hall where the early-rising students made their way inside for breakfast.

Before we parted for our respective dormitories, James asked, in a small, almost frightened voice, "Do you really think I should ask her out again?"

It was such a difference from the young man who had been confidentially telling me his goal of making Gryffindor the best team Hogwarts had seen in years only moments before. I looked him straight in the eye. "Yes."

James nodded. "Thanks."

And with that, I turned away and headed back to the Hufflepuff Basement. The seventh-year boys were huddled around a table when I entered. One, who I'd learned was named Davey Gudgeon, greeted me with a big smile as I passed by. Another boy, Ernest Fawley, asked if I'd been running with Potter, and when I said yes, Gudgeon's smile faltered a little.

I stored that bit of information away as I made my way to the seventh-year girls' dorm. It would be cruel of me, I knew, to use Gudgeon's feelings for Marlene to my advantage. But I had made a promise. I would save the McKinnons. And if I had to trample over Davey Gudgeon's feelings to do it, then so be it.

"How was your run?" asked Jenn when I entered the dorm. "Did you see the Giant Squid?"

"Morn." I smiled at her. "It was good, and yes, we did. The squid was swimming backstroke."

"That's his favorite stroke," said Jenn, knowingly.

Dorcas sat on the edge of her bed, pulling socks on her feet. She looked over at Jenn with a soft smile. Then, her gaze flickered to me, and when she saw me watching her, she suddenly became preoccupied with getting her socks fitted perfectly.

Not for the first time, I wondered if I should say something to her, but I reminded myself that meddling in Dorcas's personal life would be too risky. I had my plan. I couldn't do anything to put that in jeopardy.

"We're on our way down to breakfast," said Dorcas. "Do you want us to wait for you?"

Jenn looked horrified. She shot me a pleading look.

"Go on ahead," I said. "I still have to clean up."

They bid me farewell, and I reassured them that they didn't have to save me any food. After showering, I pulled on one of the sets of muggle clothing in Marlene's drawers, grabbed my bookbag from the floor, and headed up to the Room of Requirement. I'd already had a crumpet for breakfast and, as much as I'd like to spend time with Marlene's friends, I had some defensive spells to learn in case Rosier decided to jump me in the halls.

I took the moving staircases to the seventh floor, but I didn't make it beyond the first corner. I heard voices, saw the green of a Slytherin scarf, and then I quickly stepped behind one of the stone pillars. Just my luck. Three Slytherins stood in the light of one of the stain glass windows. They were in most of my classes, hanging towards the back of the room with Rosier. The girl was petite and curvy with a face that looked as though it belonged on an angel instead of a pureblood elitist like Edythe Dovetail. Standing beside her was her boyfriend, John Avery. He was built like a bear and tended to trail in his girlfriend's shadow. They were facing a pale, wiry boy with greasy hair and bad acne. Severus Snape.

Members of Rosier's future Death Eater gang were the last people I wanted to run into right then. I wondered if I could somehow sneak past them and slip into the Room of Requirement. However, when I ran through the list of spells that I knew, I came up empty handed. _Nox,_ for dimming lights. But that wouldn't be enough to hide me. _Aberto_ , for opening doors. Wouldn't cause a big enough distraction. _Incendio_ , for making fire. Fire would cause a distraction but likely I'd get in trouble for being a pyromaniac. Not a single one seemed useful in that situation, and none of the hexes or jinxes I knew would work against three people at once. Perhaps I should give up on the Room of Requirement and head back down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

But, just as I was thinking that, I noticed that the three friends seemed to be having an argument. Dovetail looked insistent on something, while her boyfriend nodded along, and Snape seemed to be refusing whatever Dovetail wanted.

Keeping in the shadow of a pillar, I tried to concentrate on what they were saying. However, the three of them were just far away enough that I could only catch snippets of their conversation.

" …you're certainly a better choice than Goyle," said Dovetail.

"It's pointless." That was Snape.

"…have a choice…"

"…trouble."

"…ask Rosier?"

"You…he'd say…beneath him."

Dovetail made a noise of disgust. Then, she turned to her boyfriend and said a quick phrase that I couldn't quite make out.

From what I could tell, Dovetail wanted Snape to do something. Something that both Snape and Rosier would be better at than Goyle. What could that be? My first guess was dueling or spellcasting-related. However, if this Goyle shared more than a name with the Gregory Goyle in the _Harry Potter_ books, then being better than him at most anything was a very low standard to reach.

But if Snape was refusing to do something Dovetail wanted, then maybe, just maybe, Snape wasn't fully on board with the future Death Eater gang just yet. If there was a tiny seed of doubt, then maybe I could pry it open. Peter Pettigrew. Severus Snape. Regulus Black. That was my plan. That was the start to how I was going to save the McKinnons. And here was one of them, right in front of me, giving me a chance to see into his private life.

I watched as Dovetail and Avery walked down the corridor, thankfully heading in the opposite direction from where I stood. Snape did not leave. He remained in the light of the window, fishing through his bookbag. He kept looking up and checking the corridor, as if he was expecting someone to appear.

I had wanted to wait until Helena reported back to me on her findings, but I wasn't going to get a much better chance than this to talk to Snape alone. I just needed something to catch him. Something to use as bait. Of course, there was only one thing I knew Severus Snape could never resist.

Taking a deep breath, I schooled my face to one of casual nonchalance. I just happened to be walking by. I was on my way to a study room. By pure coincidence, I stumbled across Snape. The scene played out in my head, and I willed myself to believe the lie. Then, I stepped out from the shadow of the pillar.

Immediately, Snape stopped rummaging through his bookbag and his gaze snapped to mine.

I opened my mouth, as if surprised, and said, "Oh, morn, Snape."

His eyes narrowed before he turned away, preparing to leave.

I let him take one step before I called out, "Wait. I actually wanted to talk to you."

He stopped. Slowly, he looked back at me. His voice was icy when he spoke. "What do you want, McKinnon?"

I stepped closer, cautiously, as if I was trying not to startle a wild animal. "It's about Lily."

The effect was immediate. Snape's shoulders stiffened, and his upper lip curled into almost a snarl. I would've thought he loathed Lily if it hadn't been for the sudden vulnerability that appeared in his dark eyes. For a single, brief moment, I was reminded of James, but that thought quickly disappeared when Snape snapped, "What about that mudblood?"

I bit back an angry retort and reminded myself that he'd just been arguing with Dovetail and Avery. He wasn't irredeemable. He'd end up loyal to Dumbledore. He wasn't completely lost. I made my voice soft as I said, "She misses you."

"What game are you playing, McKinnon?" Snape wore a cold, scowling mask, and I wondered if I was going about this the wrong way. But I'd gotten this far so I might as well commit. There was no turning back now.

Eyes wide. Mouth parted. Look slightly offended. "What? I'm not playing any game. I-I'm just worried about her."

"What does that have to do with me?" snapped Snape.

"You're her best friend." I said the words simply as if they were the most obvious thing in the world. "She's always hated that she cut things off with you. She doesn't talk about it much, but I can see it in her eyes. She checks up on you when she doesn't think anyone's looking." That last was true. I'd seen her steal glances in Potions and Transfiguration towards the back of the classroom. "I thought perhaps I could help you two reunite, and it might cheer her up at least a little."

Silence followed my words. Snape was looking at me, but his attention was somewhere far away.

Perhaps I'd played this card too early. Perhaps I should've waited to speak with Helena again. Perhaps I'd taken the wrong route to Snape. Lily had, of course, said no such thing about missing Snape. This could backfire terribly. But, Lily was a kind girl, and I did believe she worried about Snape. If I could get him to apologize, properly apologize, then maybe they could rekindle their friendship. In the books, Lily's death was the one thing that caused Snape to betray Voldemort. Perhaps Lily's friendship could do the same.

Then, his voice thick, Snape said, "Don't mess with me."

He walked away, his black robes swaying in time with his footsteps. Thin light filled the hallway through the stain glass windows, and a chilly air seemed to have settled in the castle stone. Snape turned a corner and disappeared from my sight. I remained still, immobile, as I realized that I might have blown my one chance to get Snape on my side.

And that's when I got hit in the back of the head with a stunning spell.

* * *

When I came to, I was bound to a chair in a broom closet. I wish I was joking. I wish I could say it was all a dream, and I was actually still in my four-poster bed, fast asleep. However, when my eyes fluttered opened, the first thing they landed on was a pile of crates and several brooms resting against the stone wall. There was a sloping ceiling, which was dangerously close to hitting my forehead.

I tried to jump to my feet and run from whatever had hit me with a stunning spell, but my body couldn't move even a millimeter. My fingers, my hands, my arm, my legs, my feet, my toes, my head—none of it wanted to move. I remained perfectly still in my chair. My heart thundered in my chest, and my head spun. Breathe. Focus on breathing. This had to be a type of body-bind curse. It wasn't a full _petrificus totalus_ spell because it seemed my face could still make expressions, and I could probably speak if I tried. I wondered if I screamed and shouted, someone would come check on the source.

Finally, I noticed the other person in the broom closet with me. I was surprised it took me as long as I did, considering he was stocky and took up a good chunk of space in the cramped closet. He sat on wooden chair, holding a wand of white wood in one hand and an open textbook in the other. His dark eyes scanned over the words, and as he used a flick of his wand to turn to the next page, I realized he hadn't noticed I was awake yet.

Evan Rosier continued to be a thorn in my side. Well, less like a thorn and more like knife, considering he had me trapped in a broom closet for God knew what reason. Well, I knew what reason. The real question was: how was I going to convince him that I was Marlene McKinnon?

His eyes flicked up to mine, and suddenly, we were staring at one another.

"Locking and muffling spells have already been placed on this closet." He killed my plan of escape with his first words. He shut the textbook, and I realized he'd been doing the reading for our next Divination class. In that moment, I'd never hated someone more in my life.

Thankfully, I could channel all my hate into a response that I was fairly certain real Marlene would have said as well: "What the fucking hell are you doing?"

Rosier leaned back in his seat, completely unperturbed by the anger in my voice. Calmly, he said, "I'm trying to find out who's taken the place of my Divination partner and why."

I stiffened. He knew. Of course, he did. It was obvious from our Divination classes. Any thoughts I'd had that he was uncertain had been wishful thinking on my part. From the moment I'd sat down at that table with him, he'd known. Though, for the life of me, I couldn't figure out _how_ he'd known I wasn't Marlene so quickly.

That being said, I'd be damned if I ever let Rosier know that he was right. "What are you on about? 'Taken the place'? Who's taken my place? Are you mad? You could get expelled for this!"

"I could." Rosier didn't seem at all upset by the thought. "But that would require you to report me, and I don't think you're going to do that."

He was right. Not that he needed to know that. "Of course, I'm going to report you, you twally-washer! The second I'm out of this fucking body-bind, I'm going straight to Dumbledore's office and getting your pasty arse expelled."

"Will you?" Rosier leaned forward in his chair. "You know what I think? I think you'll never tell a soul. Because you know that as soon as someone asks me, I'll tell them you're not Marlene McKinnon. And even if they do believe you over me and they do expel me, there will always be that little doubt in the backs of their minds: 'What if she isn't McKinnon?' And you can't afford them to have that doubt."

My throat felt tight, and it took every scrap of willpower in me to keep my lungs working. Breathe. In and out. The broom closet suddenly felt impossibly small and his broad shoulders felt impossibly large. I wanted to get out. I didn't care where. I just didn't want to be bound to that chair a second longer.

"You're off your head," I told him. "Who ties up their Divination partner and traps them in a broom closet?"

"You're not my Divination partner." He frowned. "What have you done with McKinnon?"

"Nothing," I snapped. "You're the one doing things."

"Do you have her locked up in a trunk somewhere?" asked Rosier.

"You have me locked in a broom closet."

Rosier shook his head. "I think if you had her, you would know more. You could have interrogated her or used _veritaserum_. Instead, you have no idea what's going on." He paused. "I suppose you could be that foolish. But I do think you're smart enough to do as much research as you can." His eyebrows raised and he looked at me expectantly. Then, he said, "That was a compliment."

I rolled my eyes. "You're so pigheaded."

He tapped his wand on the side of the chair. "Is she dead?"

Yes. "No. I am not dead. Unless you're going to kill me."

Rosier stared at me for a good, long moment. He seemed to be trying to read something in my eyes. I don't what he saw there, but he looked away, satisfied, and said, "I need answers. Killing you would only raise questions that I don't want to deal with."

"So instead you lock me in a broom closet?"

"Yes."

"But _why_?" I couldn't put enough outrage and disbelief into that one word. "Why on earth is this a reasonable response to thinking I'm not me?"

"We're at war. And I need answers." Rosier spoke the words simply. Without any anger or sorrow. It was a matter of fact to him.

I opened my mouth to say something. _The war is outside, not here. We're at Hogwarts_. _We're safe here_. All of it felt ridiculous to hear in my own head. To pretend the war hadn't reached Hogwarts was childish. I only had to see that haunted expressions on the students' faces to know that the war touched everything.

"People die every day now." Rosier's stared down at the thin wand resting between his fingers as he spoke. "People under the Imperious Curse. People disguised with Polyjuice Potions. Inferi walking the streets in broad daylight. Muggles disappearing only to turn up dead or not at all. Giants roaming the countryside. Wizards and witches battling in the streets. Who knows what people will do to put an end to it." His eyes met mine. "What would you do?"

"Not pretend to be your Divination partner."

Rosier's mouth twitched into a half smile. "That's what I can't figure out. Why anyone would want to replace McKinnon? She's no one. A talented witch, sure, but not nearly talented enough to attract attention. But then, I thought perhaps that's why someone would want to replace her. She doesn't stand out, but she also has important friends."

I said nothing. Let him guess. He'd never guess the truth.

"But then, I had to wonder what someone replacing McKinnon would be trying to accomplish. Are you spying on someone? Trying to gather information on the other side. At first, I didn't think it could be me. But then, you thought my dad was a Death Eater yesterday, and I realized that maybe it was."

"H-how arrogant and self-absorbed can you get?" I spluttered the words. Did he actually think someone would disguise themselves as Marlene if they wanted to spy on him? A smart person would at least pretend to be one of his Slytherin friends.

Rosier ignored me. "But I thought that there must be a more effective choice if you wanted to get to me. Marlene's good friends with Lily Evans, Dorcas Meadowes, James Potter, Sirius Black, and all that lot, so when you replaced her—and did a right shit job of it, I'll add—you had to be working them—"

"I'm not working anyone," I said, "because I _am_ Marlene McKinnon."

"See." Rosier pointed at me with his wand. "That's the problem. You're lying."

He spoke with such calm certainty that I found myself at a loss for words. What could I say to convince someone who was so confident that they were right? I wracked my brain for something that would, at the very least, plant a seed of doubt.

With a heavy sigh, I asked, "How long is this interrogation going to last? Are you going to keep me tied up here until I admit that I'm not me? Because I'll do that if it'll get me out of here. I'm not Marlene. Happy now?"

"Twelve hours."

"What?"

Rosier checked the black watch on his left wrist. "Eleven hours and thirty-three minutes now." He glanced over at me, saw my bemused expression and said, "The strongest recorded Polyjuice Potion lasted twelve hours. If you've brewed something stronger than that, then I say you deserve to get away with your disguise."

"You're mad."

He shrugged. "In case you haven't noticed, we're at war."

I hesitated and then took the chance while I had it. "Then you admit that you're on the other side. You're with Voldemort."

Rosier's heavy-lidded eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Why do you say that?"

"You're saying we're at war. You know I'm on the side of muggles and muggleborns. So if we're on opposite sides, then you're with Voldemort." I tried to lift my hands, but the curse kept them fixed in place. "What do you think Dumbledore would do if he learned that you intend to join the Death Eaters as soon as you leave Hogwarts?"

"I don't know that you're on the side of muggles and muggleborns," said Rosier. "You could be one of Voldemort's Death Eaters disguised as Marlene."

"And what would I gain from that?"

"Information. It's common knowledge that Marlene's friends are close with Dumbledore. Likely, some of the students here, the ones close to Death Eaters, shared that information with their connections and you were sent to investigate."

"And who are those students, the ones sharing information with Death Eaters?"

"I don't know," said Rosier. "Maybe one of your Hufflepuffs. You find Voldemort's supporters in unexpected places."

So that was the game we were playing. He wanted to pretend he was on the same side as the Order. Except he knew that I knew his da was a Death Eater. I'd as much as told him last Divination class.

"I think I'm more likely to find Death Eaters in your common room," I said.

"Do you?" asked Rosier. He sounded so genuinely surprised that, if I hadn't been frozen into place, I probably would've jumped in my seat. He frowned. "My friends talk about how dangerous Voldemort is as well. We feel sad at every tragedy we read about in the _Daily Prophet_."

This was how so many Death Eaters managed to stay hidden from the Ministry for so long, I realized. Damn good at lying and feigning their innocence. They could probably walk among regular witches and wizards, keeping their views hidden. Many Death Eaters probably held regular jobs. Some of them were likely aurors at the Ministry. Hidden in plain sight as they served Voldemort.

I stared at Rosier. Even though it was the weekend, unlike many witches and wizards who donned muggle clothes, he still wore black robes over a dark gray waistcoat. I knew he would become a Death Eater. He could lie to me and put on his act all he liked. Just as he somehow knew I wasn't Marlene, I knew what he would become.

"I thought you were better than that, McKinnon," said Rosier suddenly. "Judging people by their house. Even though your friends and mine don't get along, you've always said we could."

I bit the insides of my cheeks. Fool Marlene. Fancying Sirius Black and then believing she could be friends with Evan Rosier. It might be possible that she had worse taste in men than I did.

"I'm not judging you by your house," I said. "I'm judging you by your views. Anyone who sides with Voldemort is someone I just can't be friends with."

"You think I'm a Death Eater?" Rosier scoffed.

"No, but I think you're going to make that choice. 'Follow in your dad's footsteps', remember?"

Rosier's face sobered at that. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed me. The corners of his mouth twitched, but other than that, his face remained impassive. His eyes seemed to take in every millimeter of me, from my braid of auburn hair to my gray sweater and then to my bell-bottom jeans. I wriggled under the body-bind, but my limbs still refused to cooperate with me.

"What happens when I don't suddenly turn into someone else after twelve hours?" I asked, unable to bear his stare any longer.

"Hm?" Rosier tilted his head slightly to the right. "I suppose I'll have to find another explanation."

"Imperious Curse?" I might as well provide suggestions. I knew they were the wrong answers and I had nothing else to do for eleven hours and thirty-three minutes or whatever it was.

"No," said Rosier. "You have none of those signs. A person under the Imperious Curse doesn't forget facts about their life."

Damn Marlene for not giving me more information.

"Polyjuice Potion seems the more likely," said Rosier. "But that does not mean there aren't other magical methods to become another person."

"Are you going to keep me in here until you find out?"

"No, twelve hours is probably about as long as I can keep you before your friends start getting worried." He gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I figure you'll tell them you were studying or some other lie after I release you. I'm sure you can lie well enough about that at least."

I said nothing. What was there to say? He was right. I would never tell any of Marlene's friends about this. I couldn't afford it. Even the smallest bit of doubt could grow into full blown suspicion. But I'd never let Rosier know that.

"I won't lie to my friends," I said finally. "James'll get you back for this."

Rosier smirked. "I can't wait."

We sank in silence, and I struggled uselessly against the body-binding curse. Being unable to use my limbs was infuriating. Not just because it put me completely at the mercy of Rosier, but also because I was so used to having control over my own self. The loss of it filled me with an incredible frustration. I wanted to kick and scream. Maybe throw something at Rosier. However, I could do none of those things. Trapped, a prisoner in my own body.

I glowered at Rosier, wishing with all my heart that glares could kill. Completely unconcerned, Rosier sat back in his chair. He picked up the textbook from the floor and continued with his Divination homework. There was something maddening about the fact that his combover hair was in perfect condition. He'd stunned me, brought me to this bespelled broom closet, and interrogated me without getting a single strand out of place.

I caught sight of my black walnut wand resting on top one of the boxes. It was so close, if I could just get my hands on it…and do what? I didn't know the counterspell to the body-bind curse. I should've focused on defensive spells sooner. As soon as I knew Rosier suspected me of being a fake, I should've been learning every defensive spell in that book. And probably to occlumency now that I thought about it.

But then, as I stared at the wand just beyond my reach, I realized the bigger problem. Rosier had gotten the wand out of my jacket pocket, but what would have happened if he'd decided to go through my bookbag? What would've happened if he found Ravenclaw's Diadem? It only took one look at the etched bird and the blue gemstone to realize what the silver crown was. Maybe I could hope that someone would think it a fake, but that was a long shot. All they had to do was try it on to learn the truth. And what about the piece of the Veil? Anyone would be suspicious by a piece of glass that burned them? What if someone figured out Marlene had stolen a piece of the Veil? God, how could I have put myself in such a position? Why hadn't I been more cautious, found a way to hide the diadem? I'd been trying to make moves that would help me save the McKinnons when I should've focused on protecting myself.

Some of my thoughts must have shown on my face, because Rosier glanced up his copy of _Card Reading For All Occasions_ and paused.

"Anything wrong?"

"No." The word came out clipped. I gulped and tried again, "Just bored. How much longer?"

Rosier checked his watch. "A little under eleven hours." He held up the textbook. "I could read aloud if you'd like."

The idea of listening to Rosier with his proper English accent read from our Divination textbook was enough to make me want to puke. He laughed at my expression and set the book aside. Then, he asked, "When's your birthday?"

"What?" I tried not to gawk at him.

"You want to prove to me that you're Marlene?" Rosier nodded once, answering his own question. "This is how. When's your birthday?"

My eyes narrowed. This was a trick. It was always a trick with Rosier. He'd start out with easy questions and then spring a difficult one on me.

"I'm not playing this game, Rosier," I said. I shook my head as if disgusted with myself. "To think I defended you all those times to my friends."

Rosier's mouth curled into a smile. "Ah, so you figured out what you did wrong that first class. I suppose your friends told you."

"They didn't tell me anything."

"How'd you trick your friends into giving you that information?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious. "I don't think they're aware that you're not Marlene yet, but they're definitely growing suspicious."

My heart skipped a beat at Rosier's words, and it took all my concentration not to let the fear show on my face. I couldn't let him know that his words affected me. I couldn't be afraid that my friends were suspicious because there was nothing to be suspicious of. I was Marlene McKinnon. I had been Marlene McKinnon my entire life. My ma was June McKinnon. My da was Collin McKinnon. My older brother was Own. He married a witch name Yuki who's pregnant with their first child. My younger brother was Hartley, a fourth year Hufflepuff. That was my family. No one else's. Because I was Marlene McKinnon.

I took a deep, calming breath. It didn't matter what Evan Rosier threw at me for the next eleven hours. I would never admit the truth. Rosier could try whatever tests he liked, I doubt he would ever guess the truth. As long as I kept my mistakes to a minimum, he'd eventually have to admit that I was Mar—

"You want to know how I knew right away?"

My eyes snapped to Rosier's and I saw that he had been watching me. Amusement danced in his eyes. He seemed relaxed, leaning back in his seat and turning the white wand over in his hands.

"How?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "What gave it away that I'm not me?"

"You and Marlene have completely different facial expressions."

Well, fuck this guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What an annoying guy. I know I wrote him, but he just comes across as such an annoying guy to deal with. (Sorry, Marlene.)
> 
> How's Marlene going to get out of this situation? Can she get out of this situation? Can she spin things to her benefit? 
> 
> Please leave a comment!


	7. Five of Cups Upright

**PART ONE: IN VITAM**

* * *

**Chapter VII: Five of Cups Upright**

"My facial expressions?" My voice trembled ever so slightly on the last word, and I had to bite my tongue to get myself to calm down. Carefully, I adjusted my tone to something akin to sarcasm. "Don't you think that's weird? Do you fancy me or something?"

Rosier scrunched his nose in disgust. "She expresses anger in her mouth whereas you use your eyes. And your eyebrows lower slightly when you're thinking hard. Hers don't do that."

I wanted to scream or throw something at him. Preferably the Divination textbook that rested on the floor between us. My facial expressions? Who the fuck paid enough attention to those? Did he really expect me to believe such a ridiculous explanation?

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a scene from the _Harry Potter_ books rose to the surface. At a wedding, Luna Lovegood recognized Harry even though he'd been under the guise of Polyjuice Potion. I pushed the memory away. The idea that the dangerous boy sitting in front of me, his broad shoulders making the broom closet feel even smaller, could have anything in common with sweet, spacey Luna Lovegood was outrageous.

"It's similar in dueling," said Rosier, who didn't seem to care that I was fuming with anger. "Lowering eyebrows, tightening the upper lip, teeth pressed together. Not everyone's the same, but you can usually tell when they're about to hex me." He glanced at me and then corrected himself. "I can usually tell."

"Can you tell I'm angry now?" I asked.

He laughed, one of the few genuine laughs I'd heard from him. "Yes. You want to hex me right now, don't you?"

I glanced at the black walnut wand resting on the crate. So close and yet so far away. "Very much."

"I know you're not Marlene," he said. His tone had returned to serious. "Do you need to keep this up? Or do you really want to be trapped in this broom closet for the full twelve hours?"

"If it'll get me out of here me to say I'm not Marlene, I'll say it."

"But who are you?" asked Rosier. "Who do you work for?"

"I work for no one." I doubted he'd believe me anyways if I said I worked for Marlene McKinnon. "I'm still in school and haven't gotten a job yet."

Rosier's eyes sharpened. "Who do you want to work for?"

Another trick question, no doubt. "I support the rights of muggles and muggleborns, if that's what you mean."

"So do I. Perhaps we could help each other."

His arrogance infuriated me. The gall to lie to my face like that. Well, I was doing the same thing to him. I wondered if he found my constant repeating that I was Marlene equally as frustrating.

When I didn't respond, Rosier picked up his Divination textbook from the floor and began reading again. At first, I thought it was another trick. That he'd only pretend to read, and then when I least expected it, he'd look up and spring another provoking question on me. But as minutes crept past, I realized that Rosier actually was reading the book and that keeping my guard up for hours on end would quickly exhaust me.

My body stopped struggling against the magical restraints, and I relaxed as much as I could into the chair. There wasn't much to do when trapped in a body-bind curse, so I found myself watching the only other person in the broom closet with me.

Rosier, I noticed, had perfect posture. His shoulders straight and his ankles placed slightly in front of his knees; the only flaw in his sitting position was that his head tilted forward so he could read the book in his lap. I wondered if posture was something all aristocratic pureblood families instilled in their children. Would Draco Malfoy have the same impeccable posture, or was this something that only the Rosier family cared about?

Rosier also had a habit of tapping his wand against his knee. He did so in a steady rhythm as his eyes scanned the contents of the book. His mouth pressed into a thin line, and creases formed between his dark brows as he read carefully. When he encountered something challenging in the book, his chin would rise slightly and then he'd set about reading the paragraph again.

Watching Rosier could only be interesting for so long, and soon my mind moved onto other topics. First, I tried to come up with ways to escape. Rosier had said he'd locked and silenced the room by magic, so I couldn't kick and scream, hoping someone would come to my rescue. Of course, it was possible Rosier had been lying to keep me quiet. Testing that theory, however, seemed like it would only upset him. I didn't want to know what he'd do if I annoyed him proper.

Then, it occurred to me that Helena would wonder where I'd gotten to. Perhaps she could pass through whatever locking spells Rosier had placed on the closet and then alert a professor or Marlene's friends to my predicament. Of course, if Rosier and I were discovered, Rosier would likely tell them that I wasn't Marlene. I couldn't afford that. Besides, I couldn't count on Helena to save me. If she was stalking Severus Snape or Regulus Black like I'd asked, then she might not even know I was missing.

Scenario after scenario, spell after spell, ran through my head, but they were all useless. The body-bind curse kept me fixed in place, and I could do little more than think and hope. At least I knew that Rosier would let me go once the twelve hours were up. He didn't want to draw attention to himself anymore than I did. It seemed we were stuck in a waiting game until the time expired.

Eventually, when there were no more scenarios left to imagine, I found myself wondering about my old life. What were my friends up to? Were they sad when they found out what had happened to me? Or did they say that's what I deserved for driving while guttered? What had my funeral been like? My parents would be there. Did they cry when I was buried? Somehow, I couldn't picture it. If they did cry, it would've been for appearances. The only person I could imagine genuinely being sad at my funeral was my older brother—if he could get time off school to fly back from the United States. I could imagine it though. He'd stand in front of my casket and apologize for that time he accidentally broke my arm.

I wrenched my eyes shut. Deep breaths. It was better not to dwell on things left behind.

My inability to do anything productive began driving me insane. There were so many things I needed to learn: I still had five years of spells to catch up on as well as potions, herbology, ancient runes, and divination. I also needed to learn some defensive spells. Actually, now that I'd given it some thought, occlumency wouldn't be a bad thing either. I could be in the Room of Requirement instead, consuming as much knowledge as the diadem allowed. Instead, I was stuck in a closet. Immobile and useless. Left with only my thoughts.

Rosier eventually finished Divination and took his Potions textbook out of his bag next. I watched, gritting my teeth with frustration. I think Rosier took pity on me, because he picked up his copy of _Card Reading For All Occasions_ , opened it to the first page of our assigned reading, and propped it up on one of the crates for me. He even remembered to turn the page every once in awhile. It was slow reading, but at least it was something to do as the hours dragged on.

Having to sit in one place, unable to move even a finger, for twelve hours is its own special brand of torture. I wondered if Rosier knew this when he'd decided to lock me in that broom closet. He'd certainly come prepared for the hours of boredom. However, every so often he would pause to stretch out his arms and legs. He'd catch me watching him whenever he did that and send me one of his infuriating smirks.

We'd talk occasionally when he needed a break from homework. He'd mark the place in the textbook with his wand and set the book on the floor by the feet of his wooden chair. Then, he'd turn to me with a calm, emotionless expression on his face, and make some comment, something to get a reaction out of me, before waiting to see what I had to say.

"One thing I'm curious about," he said during one of these breaks. "What kind of a witch are you?"

I tried to ignore him. I still had half a page left to read from the Divination textbook. It wasn't that I found the Celtic Cross layout particularly fascinating, but that I didn't want to listen to anything Rosier had to say.

He waited patiently, however, until I'd finished the page. Then, he asked again, "What kind of a witch are you that you couldn't cast a single basic spell in Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

I focused on the textbook. The page had ended midway through the sentence about the fourth position in the layout. However, I didn't think Rosier would turn the page to let me see the end of it. Not even if I asked nicely.

"I was having an off day," I said, finally tearing my eyes away from the textbook. "Are you telling me you've never had one of those?"

"More like an off week."

I couldn't exactly argue with that.

"You learned quickly though," he said. "But I have to wonder what kind of witch can brew a Polyjuice Potion but not cast a simple spell. Of course, someone else could be brewing the Polyjuice Potion for you, but who would ever choose someone who didn't know an ounce of magic to impersonate McKinnon? You could be pretending, I suppose, and overshot how little you'd think a seventh-year student would know." He frowned. He didn't believe that. I would've corrected my terrible magic sooner if I'd been faking.

"Is it really that hard for you to believe I had an off day?" I asked. "I'm flattered you think so highly of me."

He didn't bother justifying that with an answer and he sunk into his thoughts.

Eventually, I think he gave up on trying to puzzle out what magic had replaced Marlene, and he picked up his Potions textbook. Before he started reading again, he remembered the turn the page for me.

During another one of these conversation breaks, he looked up from his Transfiguration book and asked, "What happened to the real McKinnon?"

Deadpan, not even blinking as I read from the Divination book, I said, "She's trapped in a broom closet."

"Can we stop playing this game?" Rosier sounded exhausted and perhaps a little frustrated. In vain, I hoped I'd started wearing him out.

"You're the one playing a game," I said. "No matter how many times I tell you that I'm Marlene McKinnon and you're imagining things, you refuse to listen."

It was clear we weren't making any progress, and Rosier turned back to his book without any further comment. He was so frustrated with me, though, that he didn't turn the page of the Divination textbook for almost forty minutes, and I was left to memorize word-for-word the meanings of the ninth and tenth positions on the Celtic Cross layout.

I don't think Rosier counted on my imprisonment lasting the full twelve hours. Somewhere around hour eight, he started looking concerned. He kept checking his watch and glancing up at me. I wondered if he was hoping to find my nose hand suddenly grown in size or my hair had changed colors—something to show that the effects of the Polyjuice Potions were starting to wear off. I get a sense of smug satisfaction whenever he looked at me only to be disappointed.

When there were about three hours remaining, Rosier ran out of books to read. He leaned back in his seat stretching his legs out in front of him. Then, he surveyed me quietly, his dark eyes inscrutable. I stared back at him, unwilling to back down from the challenge.

Then, abruptly, he said, "Marlene fancies Sirius Black. She has since our third year when she heard him tell Peter that tall girls were just as fit as short ones."

"W-what?" I choked on the word.

"She told me that," said Rosier. "Last year in Divination when we were learning to use runes to read love fortunes."

"Yes," I said quickly. "I told you that. But why are you bringing that up now?"

Rosier mouth twitched into a smile. It faded swiftly, however, and he continued talking, "She's never had a boyfriend, and she's never been asked to Hogsmeade on a date. She went with Lupin and Pettigrew last year on Valentine's Day, and they ran into Black, whose date had gone badly. The four of them ended up spending the day together, and she'd called it 'the best Valentine' Day ever.'"

"What's your point?" I asked impatiently even as I tried to memorize what he was saying. There was a possibility he was lying or trying to trick me, but if these scraps of information were true, I'd probably need them somewhere where down the road.

"I can help you," said Rosier. "I told you, Marlene's friends are getting suspicious. How long do you think you can keep this act up? How many clueless answers can you give before they begin to wonder if you're really the same Marlene they've known all these years?"

That was a question I asked myself every morning. Frankly, I was shocked I survived this long without Lily or Dorcas accusing me of stealing Marlene's identity. But I couldn't let the fear hold onto me. If I let myself be overwhelmed, there'd be no moving forward.

"I'm not one of her friends," said Rosier, "so there's a limit to what I know. But I learned a lot as her Divination partner last year. I can help you."

I scowled. "And what do you get out of this?"

"It's for the benefit of us both," said Rosier. "You don't want to be discovered, and I'd rather you be kept secret as well. It'd be inconvenient if you got caught and told someone about this incident."

My eyes narrowed. "And you're hoping if I stick around you, you'll figure out how I replaced Marlene."

His eyes glinted with amusement. "So you admit it?"

"Your tests would be pointless," I said. "I am Marlene."

"Who was McKinnon's Divination partner before me?"

It was a simple question; one the real Marlene would've been able to answer in a heartbeat. I, on the other hand, had no clue. I gritted my teeth and said, "I told you. I'm not playing your game."

"Dorcas." Rosier provided the answer with a knowing smirk.

I was sinking fast. I knew it. He knew it. There was only so long I could keep this charade going. And now, here was a solution, presented to me on a golden platter. Rosier would fill in the details I didn't know, and in exchange I just had to let him try to figure out how I'd replaced Marlene. He'd never discover out the truth. It was a safe bet. One of the best bargains I'd get.

And yet…and yet…I couldn't trust him. He was going to be a Death Eater. One who would die fighting for the cause.

"You want to tell me things I already know about myself?" I asked, adding a little sneer to my voice. "What kind of idiot would agree to a deal like that?"

Rosier's amused expression vanished and, for a second, he looked plain exhausted with me. Then, his calm, collected mask settled back into place. "Don't make choices you'll come to regret."

I almost laughed aloud at that. Too late. Far too late.

"You too," I said. And then, because I was feeling spiteful, I added, "Or you'll find yourself cornered in an alley choosing between death and Azkaban."

Those words didn't have the effect I wanted. Rather that look disturbed or upset by this sudden prediction of his future, Rosier seemed almost…satisfied. He didn't smile or anything like that, but an unsettling blaze of triumph filled his dark eyes. Then, as soon as it had appeared, it vanished. Rosier looked away. I was left, blinking and wondering if I'd misjudged him entirely.

The silence returned after that. I had finished the Divination reading, and it seemed Rosier was in no mood to give me another book to read. I don't know how we got through those last couple hours. At first, Rosier seemed determined not to look at me, instead examining the crates and brooms that filled the cramped closet. Then, he suddenly turned to me, his eyes sharp and disappointed in turn, as if he'd expected me to have transformed into a toad. After that, Rosier refused to take his eyes off me, and I felt as though I was under a microscope, being examined for the smallest changes in my appearance. I couldn't bear to look at him anymore, and I kept my gaze fixed on the black walnut wand. My stomach growled at some point but we both refused to acknowledge it. How long had we been there? How much longer did I have to endure this? When would this torture end?

At long last, Rosier let out a sigh, checked his watch, and said, "Well, I suppose it's not Polyjuice Potion."

"Either that or I've broken the record and brewed that longest lasting Potion known to humankind," I muttered. I regretted the words as soon as I said them. I didn't want Rosier to keep me in there another minute just in case I was some kind of potion-brewing genius.

However, Rosier didn't seem to want to stay any more than I did. He gave me a scathing look and said, "Congratulations. You survived the test."

"Or I could actually be Marlene," I said.

Rosier ignored me. He drummed his wand on his knee as he contemplated the situation before him.

"Are you ever going to let me out of this body-bind?" I asked.

Snapped out of his thoughts, Rosier looked at me. He raised his wand, but rather than point it at me, he waved it at the door. The nonverbal spell must have released the enchantments he'd placed on the room. He got to his feet, and with one hand, pushed open the door. His dark gaze scanned the corridor beyond. He waved his wand again, casting some sort of spell on the outside of the broom closet. Then, closing the door again, he turned back to me.

"My offer still stands," he said.

I glowered at him. "Released the body-bind."

With a lazy flick of his wand, Rosier lifted the curse.

I fell out of the chair and onto the floor with an unceremonious thud. I lay on the cool stones for a moment, my brain and my body trying to reconnect even as the humiliation turned my face a bright scarlet. Finally, I managed to roll myself into a sitting position, using the wooden crates to prop myself up. Rosier stood over me, his left eyebrow quirked slightly higher than the other and the faintest hint of amusement dancing about his lips.

"I can help you," he said yet again. "I won't mess you over. I don't want you to be discovered."

"As if I would ever work together with you." I tried to stand up, but my legs weren't ready to do that yet and I fell back against the crates.

"I'll give you some time to think about it," said Rosier. "When you're not mad."

He picked up his bookbag from the floor. Once he'd made sure he had all his belongings, he gave me a slight nod of farewell before he opened the door and disappeared out into the corridor.

I stared after him, watching as the door swung shut and tracing the hard lines of the brass handle with my eyes. Then, slowly, my arms still feeling like lead, I reached out and caught hold of the strap of my bookbag. I dragged it closer to me. The books weighed heavy against the floor, and one of the buckles scraped against the stone. When the bag was close enough, I reached a hand inside, searching in its magical depths.

First, my fingers touched the cool, hard lines of the diadem. I pulled it out, examining the etched eagle and relieved to see that Rosier hadn't thought to search through my bag. I reached my hand in again and rummaged through the books until I felt the burning touch of the Veil shard.

With a sigh, I slumped back against the crates. Count my blessings. I could've come out of this in a much worse situation. Yes, I still had that pigheaded Rosier to deal with, but at least he hadn't discovered the most important things.

I stayed in the broom closet until I had strength enough in my legs to stand again. Stumbling a little, I wrenched open the door and stepped out into the empty corridor beyond.

Quickly, I recognized it as one of the halls on the seventh floor. I'd walked by this cupboard multiple times during my search for the Room of Requirement. My watch said the time was a little past 9:30 at night. The castle windows looked out over a pitch-black night sky, and the only light that illuminated the narrow corridor were those of Hogwarts' enchanted candles. I couldn't believe I'd been trapped in a broom closet for twelve fucking hours.

I'd planned on going to the Room of Requirement that day. There was still time. I could put on the diadem and learn a few second-year charms. Maybe even start learning so defenses so if Rosier tried to jump me again, I'd be ready…

I couldn't do it. I didn't have the energy. I placed a hand on the bookbag, just to make sure the hard edge of the diadem was still there. On a regular day, the diadem was draining to use, and if I tried it today, I wasn't certain I'd survive.

Gathering whatever energy had left in my limbs, I made my way down to the Hufflepuff Basement. I passed only a handful of students on my way. They all ignored me, much to my relief. And when I entered the Hufflepuff common room, the only person who spoke to me was a boy in my year, who asked if I'd given up studying early tonight. I gave a noncommittal nod and fled as fast as my weary legs allowed me.

When I entered the girls' dorm, Dorcas, Jenn, and Greta all sat on their beds, chatting about something. Greta had an amber bottle resting on her bedside table, and upon further inspection, I realized it was firewhiskey.

I stood there for a moment, exhaustion forgotten and too overwhelmed to think.

Whiskey. Fucking whiskey.

It was my first time seeing alcohol since I'd traded places with Marlene. I'd been beginning to think Hogwarts students never drank. And now, I found my dormmates having a calm night in with some firewhiskey. When had they gotten it? How had they gotten it? How could I get some? I wanted nothing more than to chug down whatever was left in that bottle and pass out on my bed.

"Marlene? Are you all right?" Dorcas's eyes were wide with warmth and concern.

My hands curled into fists. I tore my eyes away from the bottle. "Fine."

I was not fine. But they didn't need to know that. With what little strength remained, I covered the two steps it took to reach my bed. I collapsed onto the mattress, not even caring that I still wore my sweater and jeans. I pulled the duvet over my head, blocking out the light, my dormmates, and the fucking firewhiskey.

I was not fine.

At this point, I wondered if I'd ever be fine again.

* * *

The rain came down in buckets. I lay the asphalt road, facing the black sky. My eyes refused to close even as water filled them, blurring my vision. The rain poured over my mouth and nose. I tried to thrash about, to move, but my body wouldn't obey me. Then, suddenly, I was no longer under the rain, but submerged beneath the water, gasping for breath, unable to breathe. My vision filled with bright green—

I woke up, writhing and panting. My skin burned, and I shoved the duvet away from me. It was hot. So hot. A thin layer of sweat covered my skin. I drew in a shaking breath, and to my relief, I realized that I wasn't drowning.

I wasn't back there. I was in the Hufflepuff dormitory. The dim, golden light of the enchanted candle that Jenn always lit before bed fell upon the room, and I could see that my dormmates were all still fast asleep in their beds. My heart slowed down and the tightness in my throat eased. I sank back into the pillows, letting my breathing even out. I wasn't there. I was in Hogwarts' castle. I was alive.

I closed my eyes, trying to go back to sleep, but sleep wouldn't have me. The nightmares drifted at the edge of my mind.

I glanced at the analog clock on the bedside table. The bewitched hands emanated a faint, golden glow that indicated the time was 1:43 in the morning.

Well, it wasn't like I'd be getting anymore sleep.

As quietly as possible, I rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and an oversized turtle-neck sweater. As I tiptoed out of the dorm, the light of Jenn's candle fell upon the amber bottle of firewhiskey. There were still a couple shots worth of alcohol at the bottom. A couple shots never hurt anyone. It might even make wearing the diadem more enjoyable. At the very least it might chase the nightmares away.

Gripping the strap of my bookbag, I turned away and headed for the exit. It was better, I reminded myself, to leave things like that behind.

The walk to the Room of Requirement was a quiet one. I kept to the shadows, worried that a prefect might stumble across me and I'd find myself with a week's worth of detentions—something else to take away my valuable time with the diadem. At first, I refused to light my wand in case someone noticed me. It wasn't until I walked head-first into a pillar that I muttered _lumos_ under my breath. In the end, I needn't have worried, and I made it to the Room without encountering another soul.

Almost as soon as I entered the Room, I threw my bookbag down on the floor and went to the shelves. I pulled out the heavy textbooks that sounded as if they might have what I was looking for and dropped them on the desk, each with a heavy thud. _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_. _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_. _Intermediate Transfiguration_. _Self-Defensive Spellwork_. _The Essential Defense Against the Dark Arts_. _Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_. All of the _Standard Book of Spells_ versions. By the time I was done, I'd taken out almost half the books on the shelf. I stood there, gasping for breath, and aware that I'd probably done something crazy but unwilling to dwell on it. I grabbed the first book from the stack, _Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ , and sat down in the armchair. I was wrestling Ravenclaw's Diadem out of my bag when a melancholy voice asked:

"What are you looking for?"

How Helena knew I'd be in the Room of Requirement, I didn't ask. My manic battle with the diadem subsided, and I looked over my shoulder at the silvery figure.

"Defenses," I said.

"Did something happen?"

I hesitated and used untangling the diadem from the bookbag strap as an excuse not to respond right away. How much to tell her? I'd already trusted her with my plan regarding the potential betrayer, and I'd already told her that Rosier was suspicious. What difference would more information make?

"Rosier knows I'm not Marlene," I said. "He decided to trap me in a broom closet for twelve hours to discover if I was using Polyjuice Potion. When he discovered that wasn't how I replaced Marlene, he decided to offer to help me pretend to be her."

"He locked you in a broom closet?" Helena's voice rose in pitch. "Is he mad? He could get expelled for that."

"He knows I won't tell." I turned back to the textbook and began flipping through the table of contents. "I can't risk it."

Helena frowned. Her gray eyes lowered in thought. "You do not suppose he will tell Dumbledore what Marlene did."

"He can't risk it either." I found the chapter in the book that might relate to what I wanted and started flipping through the pages. "He knows I'll tell Dumbledore his family are Death Eaters."

"Death Eaters?" A furrow appeared between Helena's elegant brows. "You said he offered to help you?"

I nodded. I filled her in, haltingly, about what Rosier and I had discussed. With each detail, Helena's face grew darker with worry.

"You are not acting the part nearly as well as we had thought," she said when I had finished.

"He could be lying," I pointed out. "He wants to make me nervous about Marlene's friends so that I have no choice but to take up his offer."

"Why did you refuse?" asked Helena.

I blinked. I'd thought refusing was obvious. He was a future Death Eater, the very people who would murder Marlene's family. He would join with people who tormented and murdered muggles and muggleborns. I couldn't work with someone like that. But, in the end, I only said, "He'll use me until he learns what he wants and then he'll betray me."

"As long as you are on your guard around him," said Helena, "I do not see why you cannot take advantage of the information he is offering you. He wants to discover how you have replaced Marlene. Unless he is more intelligent than either you or I know, then he will never discover the truth."

"He'll be a Death Eater," I said.

"As will Regulus Black and Severus Snape."

"You want to me work with the guy who locked me in a broom closet?" I snapped.

"It is not as though you have an abundance of people to choose from," said Helena, her voice growing thin with impatience. "If you have another person willing to tell you about Marlene's life, then by all means choose them instead."

I bit the insides of my cheeks. She was right, of course. Not that I wanted to admit it just yet. "Never mind that now. We'll figure that out later."

The Transfiguration textbook lay open in front of me. At the top of the page, the title "Chapter 10: Transfiguring Dissimilar Objects" was printed in black serif font. I carefully placed the diadem on top of my head, and then, the Room of Requirement faded to the background as my mind focused on the words in front of me. Theory. Incantations. Wand movement. Importance of equalizing the size and weight. Possible side effects of having too much mass. Duration of the spell altered. See chapter fifteen for charms to make transfigurations more durable…

I tugged the diadem off my head, ignoring the feeling of nausea that swept over me.

"Any luck?" asked Helena.

"Too advanced," I muttered, reaching for _Intermediate Transfiguration_. I opened the to the table of contents just as the nausea became too much for me. I rested my forehead on the book's smooth, cool pages and took a deep breath.

"Are you feeling ill?" asked Helena.

"The usual."

"I do not want to see you vomit again."

I snorted. "You're not even near the top of the list of people who have seen me throw up the most." I rolled my head to the side and let my eyes flutter shut. Rain falling from a black sky. My eyes snapped open and I sat upright in the armchair. I could feel Helena's gaze on me, studying me carefully, and to distract us both, I asked, "What's been going on with Snape and Regulus Black?"

For a moment, I thought Helena would ignore me. Then, in her sorrowful voice, she said, "Severus Snape was in a right mood today. I know he argued with that horrible girl, Dovefeather or whatever her name is, but I missed the fight itself." She gave a dramatic sigh. "It is difficult to trail both Severus Snape and Regulus Black as well as keep an eye on you."

Perhaps I ought to tell her that I'd approach Snape today and that was probably part of the reason he'd been angry. However, I couldn't find the words to explain it to her. In a large part because I was embarrassed to have messed up so badly.

"Do you have any clue as to what they were fighting about?" I asked.

Helena shook her head. "Something about a shield spell. Snape did not say much about it. He wondered where Rosier had been all day, but I suppose we know the answer to that."

"Yes, we do." The anger and humiliation still burned in my chest, but I pushed it aside. I had found the chapter on object transformation. My hands were still trembling a little when I went to pick up the diadem. I ignored the shaking and slid the cool metal onto my head.

The words snapped into focus. "Chapter 6: Object to Object Transformation." Theory. Wandwork. Mass. Appearance. Different incantations for transforming into specific objects. A general all-purpose incantation, though its success-rate was significantly lower than a tailored incantation. I found the words for transforming headwear and dropped the diadem onto the desk.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" asked Helena.

I nodded mutely.

Once the world had stopped spinning, I turned to contemplate the diadem. For a heartbeat, my mind went blank and I couldn't figure out what shape to use. Then, the familiar smile and the feel on a soft hat on my head, rose from my memory. I raised my wand and said, " _Petasumari_ " with a jab and flick.

Helena and I watched, fascinated, as the silver turned black, the eagle shrank and disappeared, the gemstone expanded and turned black until, when the spell was done, instead of the silver diadem, there sat a plain, black baseball cap.

"You transfigured it," said Helena. Her thin mouth tugged into a frown and her gray eyes looked at the cap with distaste. "Into what?"

"A hat," I said softly.

"Marlene transformed the diadem into a pointed cap when she used it. She claimed the hat was stylish, but I never saw the appeal."

I still remembered my brother's smile when he presented me with the Red Sox hat. He'd been gone for almost six months, studying in Boston, and had come home for the Christmas holidays. "For my baby sister," he'd said as he'd placed the hat on my head. "Come visit me when you can."

I extended a hand, fingertips quivering, and touched the hard brim of the black hat. It wasn't time period accurate, I knew that. But it was a piece of me. A small piece. Surely, I was allowed that much.

"It won't be enough," I said, tearing my eyes away from the baseball cap that had not too long ago been a glistening, silver crown. "Witches and wizards can undo transfiguration spells. I can't risk someone stumbling across it in my bag and figuring out I have Ravenclaw's Diadem stashed away. I need a spell to hide the transfiguration."

Helena hesitated and then said, "Marlene found a spell that would render the transfiguration nearly impossible to undo by anyone but her."

My head snapped up. "A spell? What is it?"

"I do not know it," said Helena. "I believe she found it in a book."

"A library book?" My mind was spinning. I needed that spell. Anything to keep the diadem undiscovered.

"You could check your library records," said Helena. "If she found the spell there, you may be able to find the book."

I glanced at the huge grandfather clock that rested in the corner of the Room. The hands pointed to a little past four in the morning. I still had a few more hours before I'd be expected to meet my friends in the Great Hall for breakfast.

Examining the stack of books, I selected _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ and _The Essential Defense Against the Dark Arts_. I placed the diadem on my head and soon I read through textbooks at lightning speed again. But unlike the other times, I wasn't reading every page. I jumped and skipped about, searching for certain information. Defensive spells that could protect me from attacks. Countercurses that could free me from magical bindings. Enchantments that could hide traces of an object's origins. My head was spinning. The world was tilting in and out of place. Finally, I wrenched the baseball cap from my head, tossed it onto the desk, and found the metal bucket that the Room had materialized beside the armchair. I vomited, my throat burning, until I knelt on the stone floor, my hands and legs trembling, with nothing left inside me.

"Maybe," said Helena tentatively, "you should take a break."

I shook my head.

"Not even my mother could learn at the rate you are and feel right." Helena spoke gently, as if she feared I would run away at the slightest miswording.

"There's still so much to do." My voice came out a thin rasp. I dragged myself back into the armchair, and I let my head sag back against the overstuffed seat.

"You do not need to learn everything in a week or even a month," said Helena. "You have time."

My hands curled into fists to hide the tremors that ran through them. She didn't get it. She didn't understand the crushing weight that hovered around me, threatening to come crashing down if I stopped for long enough. I had to hold it back. All those thoughts and fears. The heavy truths that were kept at bay by the singular focus that I must keep moving forward. Slowly, I raised my head to meet Helena's gaze. In a voice that didn't feel like my own, I said, "I died."

I immediately regretted the words. My hands reached for the diadem, and my fingers closed around the soft fabric of the baseball cap. My brother's laughing face when I complained that I'd get called an American for wearing it flashed before my eyes. Before I could stop myself, I was speaking again.

"I died. And yet, here I am. Why did Marlene do that? She had such a good life. She played Quidditch, she fancied Sirius Black, she wanted to be a Healer. She has so many good memories with her friends. A family that loves her. So many people adore her. Even Rosier—who should hate her guts—liked her. She didn't need to give it all up. There had to be another way. So why did she do it? I don't get it. I don't understand." My chest tightened with each word, and my voice became contorted. I had to stop and take several deep breaths until I was calm enough to speak. "I should be dead. Instead, I'm here in her place."

"We all die," said Helena softly. The wall of mirrors could be seen through her translucent body. I could see the deep shadows under my eyes reflected back at me. Helena extended and silvery hand and said, "Not everyone gets a second chance like you."

"Did you regret too when you died?" I asked. My voice was small and unlike me. I hated it. I swallowed and tried again, this time with more confidence. "Did you remember all the things you did and didn't do?"

"Of course."

"I remember it. All the times I said I'd change and then I didn't. I said I'd stop drinking, I'd get a real job, I'd move out of that house. Because I thought I had more time." Instinctively, I pulled my knees up to my chest, curling into a tight ball, while my hands clutched the baseball cap.

Helena hesitated and then she drifted down so that she mimicked sitting on the edge of the mahogany desk. Gently, she said, "I spent my life envious of my mother. I hated her, in the end. I hated that she was more talented than me and that I was known as nothing more than Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter. As she lay on her sick bed, wishing me to return so that she could look upon her daughter one last time, all I could think about was surpassing her." Helena's gaze was focused on the floor, as if she didn't dare look at me. "I liked to imagine myself coming home as a witch of great renown, someone who stories were sung about in halls. My mother would be in awe of me. Instead, I returned to Hogwarts a ghost, and my mother had already passed from this world."

"I'm sorry." My words were little more than a whisper.

Her gaze turned towards me. "We have more time now, Marlene. We had best not waste it on unimportant things."

Unimportant things? I didn't know what was important or unimportant anymore. I just knew that I had to save Marlene's family. Was that important? I could hear the ring of my brother's laughter. Yes. Family was important. So were friends. I closed my eyes, expecting the faces of my friends from home to dance before my eyes, but instead, I saw James Potter with his hazel eyes and warm smile. I saw Dorcas patiently helping me cast a spell in Charms class. I saw Lily offer me a potion she'd brewed to relieve headaches. I saw Mary with bright eyes as she talked about her boyfriend. I saw Peter proudly show me his empty dinner plate, proof that he was eating properly. _We had best not waste it on unimportant things_.

My thoughts slowly faded to nothingness, and at last, I let myself drift away. Helena watched over me when I fell asleep in the Room of Requirement that night, curled up in the overstuffed armchair with the black baseball cap clutched close to my heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do y'all think? Should she accept Rosier's offer? Should she go to Dumbledore? Should she tell someone who isn't a ghost the truth?


	8. Five of Cups Reversed

**PART ONE: IN VITAM**

* * *

**Chapter VIII: Five of Cups Reversed**

I woke sometime around noon on Sunday, still curled up in the armchair with an aching neck and a foggy head. My stomach twisted in protest, complaining that I hadn't eaten since the buttered crumpet James had given me the previous morning.

Exhausted and hungry, I made my way down to the Great Hall and found Marlene's friends at the Hufflepuff table for lunch. Dorcas wondered where I'd disappeared to so early in the morning, and I repeated the same excuse about studying. At that, Dorcas and Jenn exchanged glances. My mind went wild, imagining all the holes in my act. They knew I wasn't Marlene. It was only a matter of time before they turned me over to Dumbledore or locked me a broom closet like Rosier. But both Dorcas and Jenn went back to eating without a word. I wondered if I'd imagined it; Rosier's words had made me hyper-aware, and now I was seeing doubt where it didn't exist.

I did, however, try to talk more during lunch. I listened to Mary while she recounted a harmless prank she'd seen James and Sirius pull that morning, and I asked Jenn questions about the mermaid she'd seen while strolling along the edge of the Great Lake. All in all, I'd thought things were going pretty well until Dorcas mentioned a St. Mungo's apprenticeship to me.

I opened my mouth, searching for something to say. I knew Marlene had wanted to be a Healer, but Rosier hadn't mentioned anything about her applying for an apprenticeship. Had she already sent out her applications, or was it something she'd only talked about doing?

Mary saved me by saying, "Mum told me that it was better to wait until after the winter holidays to send owls. Marlene and I are holding off until then."

Mutely, I nodded along with her words. I could feel Lily's gaze on me however, and I had the distinct feeling I'd fucked up. I turned my gaze back to the half-eaten sandwich on the plate in front of me. I couldn't let Rosier's words get to me. He was trying to knock me off balance. He wanted me desperate, so I'd have no choice but to ask him for help. I'd be damned before I played Rosier's game.

"What's the matter, Marlene?" asked Dorcas. "You're looking peaky."

I tore my eyes away from the plate to give her a thin smile. "Aye right."

"You shouldn't spend all your time studying," said Lily. "It's not healthy."

"You're right." I genuinely meant it. "Except I still have to do homework for tomorrow."

"You didn't finish it this morning?" asked Dorcas incredulously. "You were gone for hours!"

"I was reading for Divination and reviewing for NEWTs." It wasn't a total lie. "I, uh, also fell asleep on my textbook."

Dorcas gave a snort of laughter. "That's why you should stay in the dorm and not sneak off at two in the morning to study."

I grinned. "I'll try."

"Well, let's do homework together," said Lily. "We can find a table in the library."

I hesitated. As much as I'd like to join them, there were still so many spells I had to learn. I'd only taught myself a basic shield spell and a handful of third-year hexes this morning. But the thought of putting on the diadem yet again sent a wave of nausea through me. Not today. Today, I needed a break. I smiled at Lily and said, "That'd be great."

And so, I spent the rest of my Sunday in the library. While reading for classes was significantly harder without the diadem, I managed to stumble through it with some help from Lily, Dorcas, and Mary.

Jenn tried to help as well, but her explanations often made little to no sense. Once, when I asked how to alter the incantation to transfigure different masses, Jenn simply said, "You just say it and it works, right?" She looked at me with wide, innocent eyes, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. I stared at her for a second. My brother had worn a similar expression on his face when I didn't automatically understand how math worked. I smiled at Jenn and then turned to Dorcas, asking, "So, how _do_ I alter the incantation to transfigure different masses?"

It was slow going, and at times, when I found the language in the textbooks difficult to decipher, I missed the diadem. It sat in my enchanted bookbag, disguised as a baseball cap. A few times, I thought about putting it on in front of Marlene's friends—after all, the disguise would keep the diadem hidden. But always, I kicked myself for even imagining up such a ridiculous idea.

The day came to an end with my mountains of homework done and drinking hot cocoa with Dorcas and Jenn in the Hufflepuff girls' dorm. I hadn't made an ounce of progress on my other work, but there were days, I reminded myself as I crawled into bed, where I needed a break.

* * *

Classes went slightly better this Monday than they did the first. I managed to make a start on a halfway decent potion, and I discovered Slughorn had given me an Exceeds Expectations on the final product of my Blood-Replenishing Potion. In Transfiguration, I answered a question correctly when Professor McGonagall called on me, and in Defense Against the Dark Arts, I managed to cast a nonverbal spell by the end of the period.

I could feel Rosier's eyes on me in every class, noting my progress. I didn't dare look over my shoulder. I didn't want him to see a twitch in my cheek or a quirk in my mouth and think that I was actually considering his proposal. I wasn't. I wanted nothing to do with that arrogant dobber who was going to choose Voldemort every time.

In the late afternoon, I was on my way down to the greenhouses for Herbology when someone called out to me in a strong Aberdonian accent.

"Have you been ignoring me, Marlene?"

My head snapped around, and I saw a tall, athletic boy with a few spatterings of pimples on his broad face, framed by shoulder-length brown hair with just a hint of red. I recognized Marlene's younger brother from the photos in her dorm room wall. He was a fourth year, according to Marlene's letter, and was already the same height as me. I wondered how tall he was going to end up before I realized that Hartley was waiting for me to respond.

"No," I lied. I had been avoiding him. Anytime I saw him in the Hufflepuff common room, I would give him a polite smile and then hurry on my way. Even if I could convince Marlene's friends that I was her (and even that was doubtful right now), I didn't think her little brother would be so easily fooled.

"I made it onto the Hufflepuff Quidditch team," said Hartley. As if I couldn't tell from the yellow practice robes he was wearing and the broom in his hand. "Not that you asked."

I winced, feeling my own insensitivity. I pictured my older brother, the excitement in his face when he told me he'd been accepted to a school in Boston, and said, with as much joy as I could muster, "Really? Congrats! I'm so proud of you."

His mouth tightened, but he only said, "Thanks. Wish you'd been there. Gudgeon was reluctant to replace you. He kept saying you'd come 'round until he had to pick someone."

"I'm sure he found someone better," I said, though of course I had no idea how good or bad Marlene had been at Quidditch.

Hartley gave me a humorless smile. "Aye right. Sure."

The conversation came to a halt. My heartrate picked up, and I searched desperately for a topic. Anything I could discuss with Marlene's little brother. Family seemed like a normal topic, but my knowledge was so limited, and I was certain I'd reveal to Hartley that I had no clue what I was talking about.

"Have you gotten a letter from ma?" asked Hartley at last.

I shook my head. My mind whirled. Surely, Marlene would've told me if there was an unanswered letter from her ma sitting at the bottom of her bookbag. But then again, I couldn't count on Marlene for anything.

"The baby should be due any day now," said Hartley.

For a moment, I thought he was crazy. What baby? Then, as the haze of panic faded, I remembered Marlene's letter. Her older brother Owen. His wife, Yuki, was pregnant with their first child. I managed a small smile for Hartley and said, "I hope it all goes well. I'm ready to be an aunt."

Hartley's brown eyes raked over my face, as if he could find the truth there. I shifted under his intense stare, wishing I could be back in the Room of Requirement. There was no pressure to pretend in front of Helena and the diadem.

"Yuki's quit her job at the Ministry," said Hartley. "She thinks it's safer at home. Though she comes from a pureblood family. She doesn't have much to worry about."

"She's probably worried about the baby," I said, nodding along with Hartley's words.

"I wonder if ma's going to move her parents like she was talking about."

My stomach lurched. I was being tested again. I felt it in my gut. There was an expected response. But what could it be? Marlene's ma wanted to move her parents. Why? I tried to recall Marlene's letter. The fancy, curling handwriting. _My ma, June McKinnon…owlry in Diagon Alley… Her ma and da are muggles…witch for a daughter…_ Muggle parents.

I grimaced and said, "It might be for the best. It's dangerous for ma too."

Hartley's eyes narrowed a fraction. I would've missed it if my nerves hadn't kept me hyper-focused. He lifted his chin slightly and said, "Da's worried about her, but of course, ma can only worry about her parents."

"I'm sure da's worried about her working in Diagon Alley," I said.

Some of the tension seemed to leave Hartley shoulders, and he nodded. "Owen says he's been trying to convince her to close down shop after that attack on Georg's Apothecary. Eyelop's expressed interest buying in the owlry from her."

I'd never heard of Georg's Apothecary or this Eyelop, but judging by the way Hartley peered at me, I expected I was supposed to have some sort of reaction. I settled for wide-eyed surprise. Hartley's lips pursed together, and I realized I'd made a mistake.

"Why do you think they attacked Georg's Apothecary?" asked Hartley in a musing tone. The question was innocent enough, but there was a sharpness to his words that clued me in. Another test. I kept passing by halves, and Hartley wouldn't be satisfied until I answered with flying colors.

"I—"

And then, my savior appeared.

From somewhere behind me, Dorcas called out, "Marlene! You're going to be late!"

"I got to go," I said, taking a step back. "I'll talk to you soon."

Hartley gave a noncommittal nod. There was a wary shadow in his dark eyes that set my nerves on edge.

I fled. Of course, I tried to keep my steps even and measured as I walked away from Marlene's little brother, but I was certain he could see through me. Just as Rosier could.

Herbology was a mess. Not because the plants were difficult. I'd read up on them the night before while wearing the diadem, and I knew I was supposed to handle them with care and not expose them to light as I transferred them from one pot to another. However, I remained so distracted—running Hartley's words through my mind over and over again, measuring every crease in his brow and downturn of his mouth—that I knocked over one pot and accidentally left one root out too long. Professor Sprout was fuming by the time the lesson was over, and I was glad to escape the dark nursery onto the Hogwarts' grounds.

"Did Hartley say something to you?" asked Dorcas as we left the greenhouses.

I grimaced. I hadn't been fool enough to hope that Marlene's friends wouldn't notice my mistakes, and I'd already prepared my explanation. "We were talking about out ma. Owen's trying to convince her to sell the owlry to Eyelop. It's dangerous for a muggleborn witch in Diagon Alley these days."

"Oh." Dorcas glanced over at Lily and Mary who nodded grimly.

"I'm sorry, Marlene," said Lily, reaching out to hold my hand in her own. She gave it a squeeze and then let go. "I'm sure your mum doesn't want to give up her career, and she loves those owls so much. But…of course you'd worry."

"It must be so hard," said Dorcas. "So hard to be muggleborn in these times."

Lily's face darkened. Silence fell over us for a moment, and then, her voice little more than a whisper, Lily said, "McGonagall keeps wanting to discuss apprenticeships with me, telling me of brilliant witches and wizards who would love to teach me more advanced potions-making. And Slughorn has a hundred connections he wants to introduce me to… But I keep thinking to myself— _what's the point_?" She sounded a little choked up on the last word. "Everyone knows I'm a muggleborn. Do they think the Death Eaters won't target me? Do they think I won't have to go into hiding as soon as I graduate Hogwarts?"

"I know," said Mary softly. "I know."

"I've already had to cast protections on my parents' house," said Lily. "Petunia was furious when I did it. She wouldn't talk to me for days. But she doesn't understand. She doesn't know how dangerous it is just to be related to me."

"Reggie talks all the time about our future," said Mary softly. "About his job, about where we could live, about where we could travel. But it's all a dream. As soon as I leave school, I'll spend every moment living in terror that the Death Eaters will find me."

I walked beside them, watching the dull orange light of the setting sun fade. It cast a soft glow around the outline of Hogwarts' castle, illuminating the turrets and towers one last time before the darkness of night engulfed it.

"We will win," said Lily. "I'm certain of it."

Dorcas's black eyes burned with feeling.

Mary looked less certain, but she smiled for her friends.

I said nothing, gave nothing away. Lily was right. They would win, yes, but it would cost them so much. Lily, James, Sirius… But I couldn't focus on that. The McKinnons, I reminded myself. I had to save the McKinnons. I recalled Hartley, his mouth pressed tight as he regarded me with suspicious eyes. But first, I had to get my own family to trust me.

Mary stiffened, her eyes fixed on someone ahead of us. I followed her line of sight to see a shadowed figure standing in the shadow of the castle. It took me only half a second to recognize greasy black hair, pimpled face, and hook nose. There was no doubt in any of our minds who Snape was here for.

"Lily…" he said, stepping forward to meet us.

"Snape." Her voice was as icy as her choice to use his surname.

Snape clearly understood that this wasn't going to be as easy as he'd hoped, and his dark eyes flickered in my direction ever so briefly. He was doing this because of me, I realized with a sinking heart, because of what I'd said to him.

"How are you doing, Lily?" asked Snape.

Lily's eyes narrowed. "Fine. Though that has nothing to do with you anymore."

Dorcas and Mary glowered at Snape. Mary had her arms folded across her chest and her small chin raised in stubborn dislike. Dorcas was slightly less obvious about her loathing, but only a fool would miss the coldness in her stare.

I stood by uselessly. I had been the one with this grand plan to reconcile Lily and Snape. I'd been the one who'd planted the idea in Snape's head that a reunion was possible. I'd single-handedly managed to cause this incident, and already I was regretting it. This wasn't how I'd envisioned Lily and Snape's reunion. I'd planned to soften Lily's opinion on Snape, and I'd wanted to convince Snape that staying friends with Rosier and the other future Death Eaters wasn't the way to win back Lily's friendship. I thought I'd have time to rebuild their friendship, not have Snape approach Lily out of the blue.

"I wanted to see you," said Snape.

"You see me every day in class." Lily's stare was unwavering.

Snape glanced at me, sharp accusation in his stare, and then slowly he looked over at the identical scowls on Mary and Dorcas's faces. In a low voice, he said, "I thought we could speak in private."

"Not a chance," said Lily. "I don't trust you, and I trust those friends of yours even less."

Snape winced. But he seemed to realize that this was the only chance he was going to get. "I-I thought we could be friends again." He stammered out the words. "It's been years, and I-I miss you."

I thought I saw something like pity flash across Lily's face, but it disappeared almost instantly and her expression was schooled back to one of cool indifference. "Are you still hanging out with those friends? The ones who believe people like me should be murdered? Because until you cut them out of your life, I have no interest in even being on speaking terms with you."

"You want me to leave my friends?" asked Snape incredulously. "When you spend every day smiling and laughing with that _Potter_?"

"James has nothing to do with this," said Lily. "If you don't like my friends, then you're welcome to walk away. I'm not the one wanting to be friends again."

Snape scowled. "You want to leave me friendless? You want me to isolate myself from everyone?"

"You would have had me," said Lily softly. "I would've been your friend." Then, she glanced over her shoulder at us, and I knew that was our signal to go. She couldn't take anymore of Snape's pleading.

Dorcas lead the way back up towards the castle, followed first by Mary and then Lily. I came last., dragging my feet, wondering if there was any way I could salvage this situation. Any words I could say, any truth I could twist, any way to make Lily turn around and give Snape one more chance. But I found nothing. This wasn't the way to go about it.

"I know you're worried about me!" cried Snape. I winced at the thin, desperate note to his voice.

Sure enough, his scorching glare turned on me next as I looked back over my shoulder at him.

This wasn't what I had intended. I lifted my chin and gave him a sharp, knowing look. Another time. We would talk about this another time.

Then, I looked away and followed Marlene's friends in through doors of Hogwarts castle.

"The nerve of him," muttered Dorcas when the doors had closed firmly behind us. "Trying to equate James and his Death Eater friends."

Mary nodded in agreement, while Lily seemed too lost in her thoughts to hear what any of us had to say.

"Maybe he'll change," I said at last.

"You need to stop seeing the best in people," said Mary. "It'll get you into trouble one day."

After that, we didn't mention the incident with Snape. I think Lily was grateful for it. She remained quiet as we made our way to the Great Hall and settled in our seats at the Gryffindor table. The rest of us chattered about meaningless gossip (or rather, Dorcas and Mary did, while I added the occasional quip where I could), while Lily remained in solemn silence. We'd try to draw Lily into the conversation, and she'd smile and joke a little with us before sinking back into her thoughts.

It wasn't until James turned up, slid into the seat next to Lily, and started telling a story about an argument between Professor Chen and Professor Roswell that Lily finally started to smile again. She laughed at James's theory about the love-affair going on between the two professors, and soon they were arguing about whether the rumor was true that Professor Slughorn had snogged Professor Vablatsky at the annual Teachers' Yuletide Party.

Sirius whined about receiving detention for hexing Avery in the back of the head, while both Remus and Dorcas agreed that Sirius deserved it. Avery hadn't done anything to provoke him…this time. Peter asked Mary for some love advice involving a sixth year Ravenclaw who I hadn't caught the name of, but I listened in and added my own advice as best I could, trying to be as warm and encouraging as I thought Marlene would be.

As supper came to close, I made yet another excuse about wanting to study alone. Marlene's friends were used to it by now, so they simply nodded their heads along with my words. Only James offered some form of protest, saying it'd be better if we all studied together.

"When both you and Sirius are in the room, we never get anything done," pointed out Remus, saving me from having to answer.

I mumbled my apologies and darted out of the Great Hall. As I passed by the Slytherin table, I felt eyes following me. Against my better judgment, I glanced at the rows of students with the serpent badges glimmering on their chests. My first instinct told me it was Rosier, but when I found him among the Death Eater gang, he was reclined in his seat, listening, almost lazily, to what Dovetail said. I frowned. Had I imagined the stare? But then, I caught the flash of two dark eyes, and I saw that Severus Snape watched me with a look of pure loathing.

I shook my head ever so slightly, willing Snape to understand my message. Another time. I could still see the look of pity on Lily's face as she listened to Snape beg for their friendship. It wasn't over. Not yet. It just needed the right timing and right mindset. With one last look at Snape, I hurried out of the Great Hall.

As I made my way through the winding, candle-lit corridors, my head spun in circles. What an eventful Monday it had been. I'd failed to convince Hartley that I was his sister, and Snape had failed to convince Lily they should be friends. Both incidents would no doubt come back to haunt me.

What could I have done differently? Not approach Snape at all, I supposed. But I didn't think all was lost on that front. Of course, a reunion would be harder than Snape walking up to Lily and simply asking her to be friends again. Perhaps if I could convince Snape that Lily was worth more than his current friends…then maybe they could renew their friendship. That was what Lily had asked of him after all, and that was the path Snape would choose in the end. Maybe, just maybe, I could convince Snape to make that choice sooner. And once he was in my debt, I had someone to help me save the McKinnons.

"Marlene!"

I was almost to the base of the Moving Staircases when a deep voice called out my name. Yanked from my thoughts, I turned to see a tall boy with honey-brown hair and a thick, white scar running across his left eyebrow. He wore black trousers and a yellow Quidditch jersey that matched the one that hung in Marlene's closet.

"Davey," I greeted him with whatever smile I could manage. In my head, I ran down what I knew of him: Davey Gudgeon. Seventh year. Quidditch Captain. Fancied Marlene.

"Finished practice for the day," said Davey, holding up his broom for me to see. He came to stand in front of me at the base of one of the Moving Staircases. "Your brother's in fine form. He said you'd been teaching him all summer, and it shows."

I smiled and tried to look proud of the brother I barely knew. "He'll make a good Keeper."

"He might end up better than McManus," said Davey. "If we train him up a bit."

"Yeah." I hoped I looked as though I knew who McManus was. "He's thrilled to be on the team. He's always loved Quidditch."

"But he wanted to play with his big sister." Davey gave me a knowing look.

I sincerely hoped I wasn't going to have to explain, yet again, why I'd chosen to quit the Quidditch team. Thankfully, Davey never voiced the question, so instead, I asked, "Who'd you find to replace me?"

"Emilie Park. Edward's younger sister."

"Any good?"

"She's all right."

"But not as good as me?" I said jokingly.

"Never," said Davey with a grin. "Remember third year when you and I were the youngest on the team?"

I nodded and took a guess as to what to say next. "We were so nervous."

"We survived," said Davey with a wistful smile. "Somehow."

I laughed, and he followed suit. I didn't exactly know what I was supposed to find funny, but it'd felt like an opportune time to laugh. If I was being honest, however, I felt more like crying. Did Marlene know how much she'd left behind?

"It was hard to replace you, you know," said Davey. He glanced down at his grass-stained shoes, as if embarrassed of what he'd just said. Then he looked up at me with a sad smile. "You shouldn't let the war stop you from doing the things you enjoy. In fact, I think those things become more important. Otherwise this war and all the darkness it brings…I think it'll consume us."

I stared at him and felt something thick and heavy form inside my chest. This poor boy. He must have liked Marlene so much, that he was willing to offer me, a poor imitation, whatever comfort he could.

"Thank you, Davey," I said as gently as possible.

"Any time," he said, his voice stronger now. "I'm always here to listen if you need someone."

"Thank you," I said again. What else was there to say? The girl he fancied was no longer here. The girl he'd played Quidditch with for four years had vanished. I wished I could say something. I wished I could apologize to him, and to Hartley, for taking the place of someone they loved so much. But I couldn't. I had to keep pretending.

"See you tomorrow," said Davey.

"'Night," I murmured as he waved goodbye and headed past me. I watched him go, silently apologizing that I couldn't be the Marlene he remembered.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the air shimmer. When I turned to look properly, Helena had materialized. A couple meters to my right. Her long face was grim as she slowly lifted a finger to her lips.

I frowned. There were other students on the Moving Staircases, their voices echoing against the high ceiling, so whatever she wanted of me must be secret.

Glancing behind her, checking for any students that might have entered the hall behind her, she then raised a hand a pointed down a corridor, indicating that I should head in that direction. It was a long corridor with an arching ceiling that led to some classrooms that were likely empty this time of night. I sent her a questioning glance, but she had vanished again.

I fought back a sigh. It'd been a long day with one disaster after another. I wanted nothing more than to collapse onto my four-poster bed. Unfortunately, I hadn't gotten any studying done with the diadem yesterday, and I needed to make some progress today if I ever wanted to catch up on schoolwork. I needed to go to the Room of Requirement. I didn't need this delay. However, I'd given Helena the task of spying on Severus Snape and Regulus Black. If she had some information regarding them, then this wasn't an opportunity I could afford to pass on.

Trying to keep my footsteps as quiet as possible, I walked down the corridor. It was empty and a chilly draft filled the hall. I tugged the sleeves of my robes down over my hands, as if it might keep me warm. Helena materialized outside a classroom door, and one finger still pressed to her silvery lips, she cupped a hand around her right ear.

I leaned against the wooden door, hoping that I wouldn't get caught spying on the future Death Eater gang.

"—acting odd since the school year began."

"But it's been worse in this last week."

"Come on, Dorcas, you don't really think she's under the Imperious Curse, do you?"

My head jerked, and I gawked up at Helena. It wasn't Slytherins at all. It was Marlene's friends. And it seemed they were talking about me.

Helena gave a single, grave nod.

"She doesn't remember things," Mary was saying. "If we talk about things that happened when we were kids or even stuff that happened a month ago, she gets a blank look on her face."

"And she never spends any time with us." This voice sounded like Dorcas. "Every morning and every evening she disappears to the seventh floor to study."

"But still," said Lily, "who would put the Imperious Curse on Marlene?"

"I wouldn't put anything past those Slytherins," scoffed one of the Marauders. I couldn't tell if it was Sirius or Remus.

"She spends all of Divination with Rosier," said Dorcas. "He could've cast a spell on her after class."

"Any one of them could have done it when she was studying on her own," added Mary. "Hide behind the door of a study room… They could cast the spell before she even knew they were there."

Silence settled among the group. They could imagine that scene only too easily.

"Did you ever consider that she's having a hard time with the war?" asked James. "She's been distracted lately, sure, but I think she feels the weight of all the chaos going on around her. How can she not? Deaths and disappearances. Attacks in muggle towns. Death Eaters in Diagon Alley. We should be helping her—not accusing her of being under a curse!"

"And she's been disappearing to study on her own since last year," said Lily. "I don't blame her. It's much easier to study when James and Sirius aren't around."

"She quit the Quidditch team." It was Sirius speaking, I decided. I could pick out his posh accent.

"She quit over the summer," said James. "But you lot think the Imperious Curse was cast two weekends ago. It doesn't match up. She's been distracted since last year, mind. It's just gotten worse recently."

"She could be struggling with depression," said Peter quietly.

"Exactly," said James. "You lot'd rather suspect our friend of being under the Imperious Curse than accept that she's going through hard times. We should help her, not suspect her of being under the control of wannabe Death Eaters."

"These are dark times," hissed Remus. "If she really is under the Imperious Curse, she'd rather we find a way to remove it than insist she's just going through a hard time."

"We're at war," said Dorcas. "We can't afford to believe in our friends like we used to."

"If can't believe in our friends," snapped James, "who can we believe in?"

An icy chill passed through my shoulder, and I looked up to see that Helena has passed a hand through me. She stared down the corridor at two Ravenclaw students approaching. They were chatting to one another and hadn't noticed me yet. It wouldn't be good to be caught with my ear pressed against a classroom door. I quickly stepped away, rummaging through my bookbag so it looked like I had a reason for standing in the middle of the corridor. As much as I wanted to keep listening, there wasn't much I could do. Under my breath, I asked, "Can you stay, Helena?"

She nodded once.

Then, I adjusted the strap of my bookbag and made my way back towards the Moving Staircases.

It was a long, lonely walk to the Room of Requirement. My hands shook, and I had to curl them into fists to stop them.

The conversation hadn't been a shock, I realized. I'd half expected this from the moment I'd taken over Marlene's body. What surprised me more was that some of her friends were willing to defend her. James… From the books, I remembered Remus once saying that James believed in his friends to a fault. Still, I couldn't fully comprehend James—and Lily—had defended me like that, worried that the war had taken such an emotional toll on me. Peter had defended me as well. I hoped that meant I'd made some progress in changing his mind.

At last I stood alone outside the Room of Requirement. I pulled on the brass handle and stepped inside, relieved to be greeted by the same wall of mirrors, the same bookshelf and mahogany desk, the same maroon armchair. At least, the Room was still here.

I went about my usual motions, sitting in the armchair and taking out the diadem-turned-baseball cap. I removed a copy of _Standard Book of Spells (Grade 3)_ from the bookshelves and opened it to where I'd left off. After that, however, my usual routine came to a halt. I remained frozen in the armchair. The baseball cap rested in my hands, my fingers running over the edge of the bill. I could only stare blankly at the words in front of me.

They knew I wasn't Marlene.

They'd been suspecting as much for the last week.

All the suspicious glances, the slight frowns, the pursed lips came rushing back to me. The signs had all been there. No doubt Rosier had been able to read them from the back of the classroom, while I'd clutched at the thin hope that maybe I'd managed to deceive Marlene's friends.

What should I do?

Was it time to invent a story? Something that could explain everything away?

I'd considered it before. Lying and saying that I'd been hit by some sort of spell and I'd lost bits of my memory. But the story had felt too contrived. All it'd take was one trip to the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey discovering no spell damage for that story to be blown wide open. I'd thought about staging an accident myself. But one miscast spell and I'd actually suffer permanent damage to my head or body. Or maybe I'd end up injuring someone else. There were too many things that could wrong with magic. And now, the lie would feel too convenient. Just as Marlene's friends' suspicions began to grow, I had a story that explain away all Marlene's new strangeness.

What else could I do? Could I possibly come clean about not being Marlene?

They'd think I was a Death Eater. That's what Rosier had thought. I was either a Death Eater trying to spy on Marlene's friends or working for the Order trying to spy on him; he hadn't been sure which. But Marlene friends? They would never consider a member of the Order replacing their friend. Which meant they would think I was a Death Eater.

It was no longer only the threat of St. Mungo's or the Department of Mysteries that hung like a shadow in the back of my mind. The wizarding world was at war, and they wouldn't take chances on me. If I admitted to taking Marlene's place, there was a high chance I'd end up in Azkaban.

A shiver ran down my spine. _They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them..._ I closed my eyes and felt my grip on the diadem tighten. That wasn't a place I could survive. I knew it in my bones.

No, I had to keep trying. I would never admit it aloud. I was Marlene McKinnon until the end.

"Rosier was right." Helena's deep, sorrowful voice came from somewhere behind me.

"Did they say anything else?" I asked. I didn't look over my shoulder. My gaze remained fixed on the textbook and my fingers continued running over the baseball cap.

"More of the same. Pettigrew, Potter, and Evans insist that you are struggling with the horrors of war, while the others are convinced you have been placed under the Imperious Curse. Black and Lupin wish to report you to the headmaster, while Potter and Evans think they would only be wasting the headmaster's time. They have no course of action yet."

I nodded. "Thanks to James, Lily, and Peter."

They had bought me a little time. No doubt my strangeness would wear down their faith in Marlene, and one day they would cave to their friends' suspicions. But for now, I had their blind trust. I needed to make use of it while I still could.

"I noticed your friends acting in a strange manner after you left the Gryffindor table," explained Helena. "They rose not long after, and I thought to follow them. The younger Black hadn't done much of interest that day. It is a good thing I did, is it not?"

"Yeah." I stared down at the baseball cap. I wondered if I could place it on my head, and it would help solve this mess. The diadem granted the power of vast learning, perhaps it would help me learn how to deceive Marlene's friends.

I drummed my fingers on the bill. I already wore the diadem almost every day. There'd been no sign of the horcrux yet, but who knew how long it'd take Voldemort's soul to wriggle its way in. Wearing the diadem a minute more than necessary was a bad idea. But I was desperate…

My eyes fluttered shut. Desperate. It was all a game in the end. And I was the rat.

"What will you do?" asked Helena.

I knew what I had to do.

* * *

I approached the next day with caution. I wasn't sure how to act around Marlene's friends. Of course, I couldn't sink back into silence, so I forced myself to speak. At breakfast, I told them about my run in with Davey Gudgeon last night, and Lily had agreed about what a great guy he was. After double Potions, I asked Mary how her boyfriend was doing, and she cheerfully told me that he'd had his future read recently and it'd foretold only good things for him. And during double Charms, I listened to Dorcas gossip about the fight Edward Park and Angelice Codde had supposedly gotten into, and I'd even offered some theories of my own (that Angelice had been flirting with Sirius).

I spent every second of the day on edge, willing people to believe me. I was Marlene McKinnon. My whole body felt drained, and it was actually a relief as I made my way to the trap door of the North Tower.

When I arrived short minutes before class began, Rosier was already seated at our table, his textbook open and the deck of tarot cards resting on the dark purple tablecloth.

"Had a bad weekend?" he asked.

"You have no idea," I muttered, settling into the chair across from him. "Some mad dobber imprisoned me in a broom closet."

"Really?" Rosier's voice dripped with sarcasm. "And why would he do that?"

"Trying to prove a point."

"Did he succeed?"

I didn't answer, because at that moment, Professor Vablatsky swept into the room, looking imperious and all-seeing in her dark red robes. I pulled my textbook out of my bag and listened as the lecture on the Celtic Cross spread began. It brought back memories of being trapped in a body-bind curse with my only source of entertainment being the pages of Rosier's Divination textbook. I'd memorized some passages word for word, and I found myself zoning out in the middle of Vablatsky's lecture.

Instead my gaze flitted over to the stocky, sharp-eyed young man sitting across from me. His dark hair was, as always, in a perfect comb over, and I wanted nothing more than to ruin it. Preferably with a vacuum cleaner.

Then, Rosier's eyes snapped to mine. There was that usual annoying glint in his gaze, but I forced myself to meet it. I would not cower from him, no matter how dangerous he seemed. And, to my relief, it was Rosier who looked away first.

"You may now practice with your partners," Vablatsky's deep voice filled the room. "The Celtic Cross is one of the most difficult and complex spreads to learn. Please do not hesitate to raise your hand if you require my help."

"Do you want to read first?" asked Rosier.

"You can." I took the deck to shuffle the cards. My overhand shuffle was practiced and perfect. Before handing the cards back to him, I paused and said, "I have a question I want to ask the cards."

Rosier's left eyebrow quirked up. "Yes?"

I gritted my teeth. I didn't want to ask this question. But what other choice did I have? I was cornered and desperate. There was only one path before me where I saw some glimpse of coming out this safely. "If I wasn't Marlene, what do I need to know?"

A corner of Rosier's mouth twitched upwards, but other than that, his face remained calm and controlled. He flipped up the ten cards that formed the Celtic Cross spread: four cards in a column on the right, five cards formed a plus sign to the left with a card placed at an angle over the middle card.

"The first card," he gestured to the one hidden beneath another, "represents the present."

I couldn't see it fully, but I knew from the shadowy figure and the images of golden cups resting in the clouds that this was the Seven of Cups.

"McKinnon was a dreamer," said Rosier. "She always liked to imagine what her life would be like. She wanted to be a Healer in St. Mungo's, helping people with illnesses that magic can't heal. But she was coming to realize that what she wanted for the future might not be the best decision for right now." He glanced up at me. "She couldn't take an apprenticeship at St. Mungo's knowing that people are suffering in this war."

"I am Marlene," I snapped. "Or the deal is off."

"Very well, _Marlene_ ," said Rosier, his voice low. "You received an offer of an apprenticeship with the Ward of Non-Magical Maladies this summer, but you turned it down because you didn't feel that was where you were meant to be."

I bit the insides of my cheeks. I had no doubt that Marlene had already decided to switch places with me when she received the offer of an apprenticeship. Her future had been laid out before her, and yet she'd turned it away because she thought I could save her family. My throat was thick as I asked, "What next?"

"The second card represents the challenge," said Rosier, tapping the card that lay across the Seven of Cups. "What is the immediate problem you struggle with?"

The carefully painted image of a woman in a white dress calmly holding the jaws of lion faced me.

"Strength Reversed," he said. "You seem to be lacking inner strength. You're experiencing a lack of conviction in your own abilities. You can end up withdrawn from society because of these feelings of unhappiness and depression." He glanced up at me. "You certainly seemed to withdraw from your friends last year. Around February, I believe it was. You would insist on studying alone and disappear from your friends for hours. I asked you about it once, and you told me that there was still so much you still had to learn."

I said nothing. What was there to say? Marlene had found the diadem and become consumed by the knowledge it gave her access to. I could hardly blame her. Though I wondered how she withstood the nausea.

"The Past," said Rosier, pointing to the third card, the Six of Cups Upright, "which should give some indication as to how this problem came about. The Six of Cups means generosity, naïve happiness, childhood." Rosier gave a small smile, one that didn't show his teeth. "You do love your family, Marlene. You could talk about them endlessly in a way I could never understand. You told me about how your mum would bring you and your brothers to her owlry in Diagon Alley, and you would spend hours playing with the birds until your mum gave your older brother a few coins to go buy ice cream for the lot of you. You told me of how your dad would bring all three of you kids up to the hill behind your house, and the four of you would play Quidditch for hours on end. You and Owen against your dad and Hartley. Hartley always made a great Keeper, you told me."

He watched me carefully with every word. I wished I could summon up feelings of love and longing for family, but all I could do when listening to Rosier recounting Marlene's stories was try to memorize his every word. Briefly, I wondered what Rosier thought of my coldness.

The fourth card represented the future, what was coming in the next couple weeks. The Page of Swords Reversed bore the image of windswept woman with a sword in her hands. Both Rosier and I knew what this meant: trickery, deception, manipulation. Often used carelessly, resulting in harm to herself and others. Rosier had nothing to say about this card, and I was grateful.

"The fifth card," said Rosier, gesturing to the position at the top of the cross, "reflects your goal."

"Death Upright." I stared down at the familiar image of a skeleton knight on a horse.

Rosier nodded. "The end of cycles, new beginnings, change. You believe in everyone, you know. You've been good friends with James Potter ever since third year when you were both young Chasers on your Quidditch teams. Even when he was being the biggest toerag imaginable, I remember hearing you insist to Evans that he wasn't all bad. You even defended Severus sometimes, saying that he might come around one day. It wasn't until Severus called her a 'mudblood' and Evans decided it was best to end their friendship that you stopped supporting him." Rosier looked over at me through his unfathomable dark eyes. "And you befriended me after we became Divination partners last year, insisting that just because people in my house were bad, it didn't mean I had to be."

I knew most of this. Marlene was forgiving, choosing to see the best in others. That must have been why she'd traded places with me of all people.

Rosier then pointed to the position at the bottom of the cross. The one that represented an even deeper reason, the core of decision-making. "The Four of Wands Upright. Celebration, harmonious, a happy home environment." He nodded once. "Family again. That is your motivation for everything, isn't it? You were so excited when you received a letter from your brother last March, announcing that your sister-in-law was pregnant. But you were also so worried. A child born into a world like this. You kept wondering what kind of life your niece would have. I think that's when you started disappearing for longer hours. Learning whatever it is you felt you needed to learn." He touched the Death card with his fingertips again. "You will do anything, change anything, to protect your family, won't you?"

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Bits and pieces coming together. Things I knew, things I had suspected, finally piecing together, and the image of Marlene forming before my eyes.

"This one represents advice," said Rosier, pointing to the position at the bottom of the right-hand column. There, on the delicately painted card, was the image of a man in red robes, holding a candle high above his head. "The Magician Reversed. You may be lured in by the showmanship of his arts, but behind that there may be an intention of manipulation and selfish gain."

Rosier watched me as he spoke, but I couldn't take my eyes away from the magician in his red robes. Except of instead of red, I imagined blue and silver.

"Was someone manipulating you, Marlene?" asked Rosier.

I tore my eyes away from the Magician and met Rosier's stare evenly. "Perhaps. What's the next card?"

"External influences," said Rosier. It was a beautifully painted card with a lightning struck tower and people falling from the windows. "The Tower Reversed. You can sense some crisis looming on the horizon, and you are struggling to avoid its manifestation. What you have not realized is that this crisis can be beneficial in ending your reliance on something that's false. The tower is built on faulty foundations, and it must fall." Rosier ran a hand through his perfect hair and stared across the table at me.

Briefly, I wondered if this reading and my reactions told Rosier more about me than I was learning about Marlene. I shook that thought away. It didn't matter how well Rosier could read my facial expressions. He would never guess the truth.

"The ninth card is hopes and fears," I said, not looking down at the table. I knew what the card was. I knew what the crowned man on a throne represented. "Justice Upright."

"One day, you will feel the consequences of your actions," said Rosier. "You will feel pain for those you brought suffering upon, and you will feel joy for those you helped. You were always about helping people, Marlene. In our fifth and sixth years, you, Evans, and Meadowes would get into all sorts of arguments with Edythe and her friends. Never duels like the ones that earned the us boys detention, but you lot would stop Edythe from bullying underclassman. It always drove her wild." His mouth twisted into some half smile as if he was enjoying some private joke. Then, without warning, he said, "The tenth card represents where the situation is headed."

We both stared at the last card. The image of a lone man in a black cloak, his head bent as he looked down at five fallen chalices.

"The Five of Cups Reversed," said Rosier. "Acceptance of your past. You are beginning to realize all of the implications of your actions, and you have finally come to appreciate the lessons which can be learned from the experience." He smirked. "Is that why you've finally asked for my help?"

I glowered at him across the table. There was more yet, still things I needed to know. Every shard of knowledge was important. Rosier knew that, and he knew that feeding me only little crumbs at a time would keep me coming back for more.

"What else do you want to know, _Marlene_?" asked Rosier.

I hated the victorious smile that danced across his face. But I was desperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better to keep your friends close and your enemies closer...
> 
> Please, please leave a comment!


	9. Ace of Pentacles Upright

**PART ONE: IN VITAM**

* * *

**Chapter IX: Ace of Pentacles Upright**

A brief period in Divination class wasn't nearly enough time to learn what I needed to about Marlene. An entire week of learning only about Marlene's life probably wouldn't have been enough time.

On top of that, I was fairly certain Rosier would dole out information piece by piece in each class to keep me on the hook. However, as class was ending, Rosier suggested that we should meet on the seventh floor at six on Wednesday.

I was so surprised, I agreed without thinking.

It wasn't until I was halfway down the Moving Staircases that I realized I'd just promised to meet Evan fucking Rosier outside of Divination class. Alone.

Panic welled in my throat as I imagined all the hexes and jinxes Rosier could throw at me when we were out of the public eye. I imagined him practicing the Cruciatus Curse, hoping to torture the truth out of me. Though, of course, when I thought about it, if Rosier wanted to hex me, he didn't need to lure me to the seventh floor to do so. In fact, if he planned to torture me, he would've done it last weekend when I was trapped in his Body-Bind Curse.

As my overwhelming fear of Rosier subsided, it was swiftly replaced by the image of Lily or Dorcas stumbling into an empty classroom only to find their good friend Marlene alone with a future Death Eater. What would they think? Was it possible I could lie and say we were studying for the Divination NEWT? Did people need to study for the Divination NEWT?

Of course, when he'd interrogated me before, he'd put some sort of warding spells on the door. Likely, he'd cast those same spells again. Being discovered alone with me would be as disastrous for him as it would be for me. Caution would go both ways.

Besides, he was going to tell me more about Marlene's life. I'd found someone who would answer my questions. Someone who could help me deceive Marlene's friends before they decided to see if I really was under the Imperious Curse. I didn't have the luxury of being picky. I needed what Rosier offered. So, after a long day of classes on Wednesday, I made my way up to the seventh floor, following the instructions Rosier had given me.

_Take a right at the end of the hall… Past Professor Chen's office… You'll see a door with an old-fashioned handle…_

I stopped in my tracks when I saw the little wooden door with a brass handle.

I remembered this place. This was the broom closet where Rosier had trapped me for twelve hours in a Body-Bind Curse.

Fuck this knobdobber. I had better things to do with my time.

I took a step back, preparing to leave, when a deep voice came from behind me, traces of the polished accent on every word.

"Bring back memories?"

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the heavy-lidded eyes, straight nose, and perfectly combed hair of Evan Rosier.

"You couldn't choose an empty classroom?" I asked.

"Classrooms are harder to hide," said Rosier, coming to stand beside me. "If you cast a warding spell in a school of wizards and witches, someone is bound to notice. Students walk by empty classrooms all the time or use them for homework. All it takes is one person to notice the spell, and our private conversation is suddenly public knowledge. Neither of us wants that. A broom cupboard is small and forgotten. No one comes here except Filch."

"And students who want a quick shag," I said.

Rosier grinned. "There are too many professors on this floor. The sixth and fifth floor broom closets are the most popular shag choices."

I eyed the wooden door warily. I wouldn't put it past Rosier to put another Body-Bind on me as soon as I stepped into the damned cupboard.

"Someone better with warding spells could probably charm a classroom to so that not even the professors could tell," said Rosier. "But that's not my area of expertise. So, your favorite broom closet will have to do. Unless you've become an expert in warding spells overnight, of course." He shot me a knowing look.

I gritted my teeth. "The broom closet is fine."

Rosier flicked his wand, and I felt a brush of cool air across my legs. I looked over my shoulder at the empty corridor. The candles flickered slightly in a soft breeze. When I turned back to Rosier, he had his head tilted slightly, as if listening for something.

"All clear," he said at last. He opened the door of the broom closet. In mockery of a gentleman, he stepped back, holding out a hand to allow me through first.

I threw him a look of disgust.

The broom closet had the same crates as last time and the same six brooms with a thin layer of dust on their handles. The only thing missing was the two chairs. Rosier shut the door behind him, and I jumped a little at the click of the lock. He glanced at me, but said nothing as he started casting nonverbal spells on the door.

 _Colloportus_ , the Locking Spell. In my head, I ran through the enchantments I'd use to protect the door. _Tutelementi_ , the Obscuring Spell. _Cavefacium_ , the Warning Spell. _Muffliato_ —that would muffle conversation to any eavesdroppers. This was a Half-Blood Prince spell I remembered from the books. Of course, Rosier was friends with Snape, so odds were Snape had taught him the spell.

It seemed Rosier knew far more warding spells than I did. He cast eight or nine on the door, layering them on top of each other in an intricate web, before he lowered his wand and turned to face me.

We both had our heads stooped under the low, slanted ceiling of the broom closet. He pointed his wand at a spot on the floor. Immediately, the air started to wriggle. Something solid appeared, shrinking in some places and expanding in others. I watched, my jaw tight, a wooden chair appeared, identical to the one I'd sat in for hours trapped in a Body-Bind Curse. Rosier noticed my expression, and he offered me a smug smile as he sat down in the newly transfigured chair.

"You're welcome to conjure your own chair," he said, "if you don't like mine."

"I'm fine." I dropped my bookbag on the floor and leaned against one of the crates, using its hard edge as a makeshift seat. It wasn't comfortable, but at least my head was no longer bumping against the ceiling.

"You can just say you don't know how to conjure a chair," said Rosier. He pointed his wand at the floor in front of me and said, " _Sellaparte_ ," for my benefit. From thin air, there materialized another, identical chair.

"I'm fine here," I said again. I'd be damned if I sat in that chair for another minute.

"So, what do you want to know about yourself, _Marlene_?" asked Rosier. He leaned back in his seat, casual and comfortable.

I hated him.

"I want to know about school," I said. "What happened last year?"

"Gryffindor won the House Cup," said Rosier.

"I know that." I'd stumbled across the Trophy Room last Thursday and had spent the half hour before dinner trying to memorize the House and Quidditch Cup winners each year.

"Slytherin won the Quidditch Cup," continued Rosier, ignoring me. "Rumor in the Slytherin common room is that Potter tried to drown himself in the showers after. Let me know if you find out the truth. The Gobstones Team lost to Beauxbatons in the European Tournament. Johnson swears they cheated. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was Professor Gibbons. He left the post to go into hiding after Death Eaters broke into his house. No word on him since. Oh, and I was Duel Champion for the fourth year in a row." He sent me a triumphant smile at the last.

"Johnson?"

"Lucille Johnson. Ravenclaw seventh year. Tall, blonde, wears glasses. She's in Divination class with us, Marlene. She's partners with Joanna Stebbins."

I winced.

"Don't worry. I already know you know nothing," said Rosier. He nodded towards the empty chair. "And you're learning magic from scratch. I would've sworn you were a muggle if I hadn't seen you enlarge Macdonald's ears in Transfiguration that first day."

I laughed so Rosier wouldn't know how close to the truth he actually was.

"I can start from the beginning," said Rosier abruptly. "You want to know the overview of what happened each year, right?"

It felt odd, admitting that I knew nothing to Rosier. Technically, I'd already asked for his help, and he'd told me a lot about Marlene while reading my tarot cards. But it made me uneasy to sit in this cramped broom closet, look him in the eyes, and admit that I knew nothing about the previous seventeen years of my life.

"I can't betray you," said Rosier.

My eyes narrowed. No doubt he'd read the hesitation in my face.

"If you get caught, then you can rat me out," said Rosier.

"Because I know your da's a Death Eater?" I folded my arms across my chest.

"He's not," said Rosier with a dismissive wave of his hand, "but I'd rather you not throw accusations around. Being associated with You-Know-Who in these dark times is an easy way to end up in Azkaban."

I decided it was better not to say that anyone who tortured and murdered muggleborns deserved to be in Azkaban.

"But like I said," continued Rosier, "if you got caught, then you could rat me out. So, I'm very invested in your secret being kept. Unless, of course, I get caught. In which case, I _will_ rat you out. I suppose it's advisable that you help me as well."

I didn't say it aloud, but I understood that this agreement only lasted while we were in school. Once we left school, there was nothing stopping him from telling his Death Eater friends that I wasn't really Marlene McKinnon. But what would that matter to me? I planned to be on the opposite side. Perhaps there was a risk they could try to expose me, but who would take the word of the Death Eaters over mine? Still, there were Death Eaters in hiding everywhere. Who knew what harm could be done if my secret ended up in the wrong hands? There were risks, so many risks, but now wasn't the time to worry about those far-off future consequences. Right now, I needed to convince everyone that I was Marlene McKinnon. And this annoying future Death Eater in front of me was the only person who knew enough to help me.

"All right," I said, unfolding my arms. "Start from the beginning."

Rosier gave me a small smile, so slight that I might have missed it if I blinked. Then, in his usual even voice, he said, "First year, Ravenclaw won the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup. Our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was Professor Steward, a lovely lady who was terrified of the very subject. You, Evans, and Edythe got into a fight over something stupid, and Edythe swore she'd make your lives miserable. Slughorn invited Evans to join his club even though she was just a first year. Everyone made a big deal of it. The Duel Champion that year is irrelevant."

"What was the fight over?" I asked.

"I don't remember," said Rosier. "I can try to find out for you if you think it'd be important to Marlene. I doubt Edythe even remembers. She's the type to swear revenge and then forget about it a week later."

I opened and closed my mouth, surprised that Rosier would actually put that much effort into this. Finally, I said, "Forget it."

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Second year, Slytherin won the House Cup and Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup. The Dark Arts professor was Professor Bletchley, who had to leave before the final exam due to a terrible case of spattergroit. Potter and Severus' dislike for each other really began this year, I believe. I forget who started it. Severus might have hexed Potter first, or Potter made fun of Severus' hair. Who knows. The truth is long forgotten at this point. The rest of us got dragged into it when Black cast a Bat-Boogey Hex on Edythe." The corners of Rosier's mouth tugged down at the memory, but then, with a glint in his eyes, he added, "The Duel Champion is still irrelevant."

I bit the insides of my cheeks as I tried to memorize everything he said. My memory didn't need to be flawless. Marlene probably didn't recall things that happened five years ago with perfect clarity. Still, I needed to remember enough.

"Do you need to take notes?" asked Rosier.

"No." I couldn't afford to leave behind a paper trail. Even if I could enchant the parchment so that no one but me could read the words, it would only take a more talented witch or wizard, like Dumbledore or any of the professors, to undo the spell. I'd even burned the letter Marlene had written me after I'd read it wearing the diadem.

Rosier watched me for a moment and the nodded his head as if he understood my thoughts. "In third year—"

"Ravenclaw won the House Cup," I said, injecting some frustration into my voice.

A wry smile flashed across Rosier's face, but he only said, "And Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup again. Professor Borowitz left for a higher-paying Dark Arts job at Durmstrang after that year. Sometime in the fall, Potter publicly declared in the corridor outside Transfiguration class that he was in love with Evans. Evans promptly called him a "pigheaded toerag", I think it was. She was friends with Severus back then, so of course she would reject Potter. This was the year you started as Chaser on the Hufflepuff team. You cried when you lost to Slytherin in the final game. Also, the first year I became Duel Champion. I beat the previous title holder with a Disarming Spell timed in the gap between his Shield Charm and his counter-spell." Rosier's mouth flickered upward into a half-smile at the memory.

"I know you're Duel Champion for the next three years," I muttered. "You don't have to add that detail in every time."

Rosier laughed, but he continued to tell me how he won in various ways in his summary of each year. Bat-Boogey Hex to the face. Knocked opponent off the platform with a Blasting Curse. _Levicorpus_ when she distracted by a Stunning Spell. There was almost a childlike, gleeful energy in him as he recounted each one. It was jarring, in a way, to see him like that. I was so used to the devoid, emotionless look in his eyes.

However, detailed descriptions of Rosier's dueling wins weren't very important to me. I doubted the real Marlene would remember such things. Instead, I focused on the facts. It seemed Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had the strongest two Quidditch teams for the past few years, though Rosier claimed Slytherin shouldn't be underestimated. The curse of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position continued as Rosier described professor after professor leaving the post. I tried to memorize their names and what details he gave about them.

Based on Rosier's words, the grudge between the Marauders and the future Death Eater gang seemed to have grown worse each year. For most of the Slytherins, it seemed that they hated the Marauders on principle, a continuation of the Gryffindor-Slytherin feud. Avery, Goyle, and Proudfoot would throw the occasional hex in the Marauders direction, but mostly, their fighting was left to snide comments and sarcastic mocking. However, for Severus it appeared to be personal, and he would cast Stinging Hexes and other nasty curses at the Marauders backs.

Just because the Slytherins largely left the Marauders alone, however, it didn't mean the other students were spared. Rosier reluctantly admitted to a couple instances involving his friends and muggleborns. One was in fifth year where Goyle performed a poorly cast Cruciatus Curse on another student. After a long meeting that involved his parents, the teachers had chalked it up the bad judgment of youth and only punished Goyle with four months of detention. The second incident took place in sixth year where Proudfoot and Wilkes cornered a first year muggleborn in the boys' bathroom on the second floor. Rosier didn't tell me the name of the curse his friends had used, but from the description of the deep slashes it sounded like _sectumsempra_.

"Snape was there as well, wasn't he?" I asked.

Rosier gave me a cool look.

"How'd he escape when the others didn't?"

"He wasn't there," said Rosier with a tone that left no room for discussion.

Proudfoot and Wilkes were, of course, not expelled. They'd been suspended for two weeks and then placed under strict probationary rules until the end of the year. My stomach curdled in disgust as I listened to these stories. Rosier only mentioned the incidents where the culprits had been caught. There were more, I knew, but Rosier volunteered nothing of them.

"What happened between Mary and Mulciber?" I asked.

Rosier's face remained impassive as he said, "In the beginning of fifth year, Mulciber tried an Imperious Curse on her. Except he cast it badly, and she ended up in the Hospital Wing for a fortnight."

"And no one tried to expel Mulciber?" I asked, unable to keep the disdain from my voice. I could picture Dumbledore staring across his desk at the teenage Mulciber who had just tried to _Imperius_ a young girl. Instead of punishing Mulciber for his actions, Dumbledore would only mourn "the folly of youth." Mulciber had graduated from Hogwarts last year. No doubt he had immediately joined the Death Eaters and was now killing muggles in Voldemort's name.

"He cast a Confundus Charm on Macdonald," said Rosier. "I believe by the time her memories returned it was too late to blame Rosier."

I stared at the empty wooden chair in front me, mulling this new information over in my mind. Why had Dumbledore and the rest of the professors decided to keep these students at the school? How much could Dumbledore blame the poor judgment of teenagers before it became clear these students were headed down a dark path? Did Dumbledore truly believe he could save them by keeping them in Hogwarts and putting them on probation? Of course, expulsion likely meant leaving them to the influence of their parents, and they would likely join the Death Eaters just that much sooner. But surely there was another way…a way to help them without leaving the muddleborn students vulnerable.

"It sounds like got worse after fifth year," I murmured, thinking over everything I'd learned in the past hour.

In a low voice, Rosier suddenly said, "In fifth year, Moira Edevane was killed over the winter holidays."

My head jerked up. "What?"

"Hasn't come up with your friends yet?" asked Rosier. Though he spoke with a mocking tone, there was no humor in his eyes. "Probably lucky for you. Anyone would get suspicious if you didn't remember Edevane."

In the background of Rosier's recaps, there had been bits and pieces about the war. The muggleborn professor who'd gone into hiding. Changes in school regulations after Harold Minchum became Minister for Magic. The Slytherin students getting increasingly aggressive as the years went on. The hints were there, floating around in the background, reminding me that outside the walls of Hogwarts castle loomed the ominous specter of war. But this was the first time Rosier had mentioned death, and the true horror came crashing down around us in the small, cramped broom closet.

"Edevane's father was a mudblood," said Rosier. I scowled at the word, but he ignored me. "The Death Eaters raided their house on Christmas Eve, if I remember correctly. The entire family was killed."

Rosier spoke flatly and without emotion. I wanted to shake him, remind him that it was _his_ people who did this.

"She was in our year, in Ravenclaw," said Rosier. "She was my partner a couple times in Charms throughout the years. She and McKinnon were similar. In that they always try to see the best in people."

I opened my mouth to make a biting comment, remind him that he would one day walk in his da's footsteps and join these people who had killed his classmate. But the words died in my throat.

The silence stretched out between us. I tried to find the right words, the way to explain to Rosier that what the Death Eaters were doing was wrong. Students shouldn't be murdered when they go home to visit their parents. Professors shouldn't have to go into hiding. A young woman shouldn't be so scared that she trades places with her dying doppelganger in the vain hope of saving her family. The world shouldn't be like this. Couldn't Rosier see that?

But I knew the choice Rosier would make. Even though we'd made this agreement and he'd promised to help me become Marlene, I knew he would choose the Death Eaters in the end. There would be no doubts in this man who would rather die than go to Azkaban.

At last, Rosier's voice cut through the broom closet. "Do you have anything else you want to know?"

I pushed the thoughts of war away. After adjusting my uncomfortable seat on the edge of the crate, I focused on the young man sitting in front of me.

There was so much. I wanted to know about Marlene's family, about Marlene's friend group, about the past years of war, about the Hogwarts rumor mill… There was so much still to learn. But, in the end, I settled on one question I needed to ask.

"What happened in Hogsmeade last year?" I asked. Rosier looked at me curiously, and I got the feeling I'd said something wrong. However, it was too late to retreat. "I've heard people say it's the reason James became Head Boy."

"That, and Potter stopped hexing people for the sheer fun of it," scoffed Rosier. He watched me for a moment through shadowed eyes. Then, almost softly, he said, "I suppose that Hogsmeade trip was an awakening for most. For those who didn't feel Edevane's death deeply enough."

"What happened?"

"There was a Death Eater raid on Hogsmeade."

At that, a tension crept into the broom cupboard. My fingers curled against the edge of the crate.

"It was some time in the afternoon," said Rosier. His dark eyes met mine and refused to leave as he spoke. "I was in Dervish and Bangs with Edythe, having her cauldron repaired. I believe Marlene and her friends were in the Three Broomsticks. That's where most of the students were. It was sometime in early December. Snow already coated the ground. The attack started outside Honeydukes. The Dark Mark was cast into the sky while one of the Death Eaters used the Cruciatus Curse on a Hogsmeade resident. His screams filled the street. You could hear it from inside Dervish and Bangs."

Rosier spoke plainly with little inflections in his words, but at that last, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. If we hadn't been making eye contact, I wouldn't have noticed.

"Then, you could hear screams from all corners of the street. First to the right and then to the left. Two, three, four people. Figures in dark cloaks with bone-like masks across their faces appeared in doorways and between the buildings. Snow was falling while witches and wizards lay in the streets, screaming that they'd rather be dead."

My fingernails bit into the wood of the crate. I couldn't look away from Rosier's dark eyes. They had at first appeared empty and cold but something heavy was stirring beneath the surface as he spoke.

"Two of the Death Eaters entered Dervish and Bangs," said Rosier. "They pointed their wands at Edythe and me, but when they saw our Slytherin robes, they stopped. The owner had fled the store the moment the first scream was heard. He didn't bother to save us. After the Death Eaters destroyed the store, they left without touching Edythe and me. We didn't dare risk the main street, of course. All it took was one unwitting Death Eater to curse us without looking at our robes. We slipped out the back and escaped Dervish and Bangs using the side alleys."

I wanted to say something. A fire raged in my throat as I thought of those people screaming in agony as they were tortured in the streets, while Rosier could walk away unscathed. _You're one of them_ , I wanted to shout. _You look sad when you talk about Edevane's death and the horrors in Hogsmeade, but you're one of them_.

"We found the rest of the Hogwarts students," said Rosier. "There was an escape plan already in place: slip out the back doors, use the narrow side streets, and take portkeys back to Hogwarts. A decent plan, except the Death Eaters already knew about the back alleys. After they had finished torturing the four people in the streets, the Death Eaters began prowling the back alleys. Some of them unknowingly cut off the routes to the portkeys."

"This is where Potter comes in," continued Rosier. "He broke through everyone's panic and started coordinating the upperclassmen. It wasn't about defeating the Death Eaters, he said, but stalling them and luring them away from the portkeys. I remember Potter shouting orders. The seventh years and Hogsmeade residents, even though they were more experienced than him, could do nothing but listen. I didn't believe it would work, but Potter's plan managed to free up the routes to the portkeys. Bit by bit, the students evacuated."

I raised a hand to my throat and ran my fingers over the soft skin. Actually, it was all too easy to imagine Potter barking orders and people not hesitating to follow. He had the confidence and charisma that could make one believe in him.

"You were there too, of course," said Rosier. "You and Macdonald stayed with the underclassmen, protecting them if any Death Eaters stumbled across you. Thankfully none did. I remember watching McKinnon hug a third-year girl as she fought back tears." A bitterness made its way into Rosier's voice as he continued to talk. "Edythe wanted to cast sparks into the sky, so that the Death Eaters could find the students. She said Macdonald deserved to be caught. I stopped her. I think told her someone would see her cast the sparks and that would only bring trouble down on both our heads. I said whatever to get her to stop."

He was lying, I thought. Trying to show me that he wasn't as bad as Dovetail to get me to trust him. It wouldn't work.

Mary was a muggleborn. I could only imagine what the Death Eaters would do if they'd discovered her. Imagines formed in my mind of Mary being dragging by magic through the snow-covered streets, an eternal scream etched into her soft features. A shiver ran through me.

"Dumbledore and the other professors arrived less than a minute later, so it wouldn't have mattered if Edythe had sent up the sparks. The Death Eaters fled the moment they spotted Dumbledore in his purple robes. It didn't matter to them, we later learned. It wasn't the students they were after. The four witches and wizards they'd tortured in the streets were all muggleborns who lived in Hogsmeade. One had died. Two were sent to St. Mungo's. The last one, the Death Eaters took with them. Rumor has it, she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

He eyes flashed when he said those words, and he watched my reaction carefully. I had no doubt there was a look a recognition in my eyes. There was nothing I could do to prevent that. What Rosier would do with the knowledge that I knew something about the Order of the Phoenix, I couldn't say.

"What about the students?" I asked.

"A couple of fifth year Slytherin girls were Stunned," said Rosier. "One Hufflepuff boy ended up in the Hospital Wing for a week. Two students, a boy and a girl, had to go to St. Mungo's due to uncontrollable bleeding. No one died. Thanks to Potter." He said the last word with an ironic twist to his mouth.

"The Death Eaters wanted to cause a scene," I murmured. "The muggleborn residents of Hogsmeade were their real goal, but they planned a day when the Hogwarts students would be there."

Rosier nodded as if he didn't already know all this. "They must have a rat in Hogwarts if they knew what day the Hogsmeade visit would take place."

My mind immediately jumped to the professors. I knew McGonagall, Sprout, Slughorn, and obviously Binns weren't Death Eaters. But what about the others? I vaguely remembered a teacher named "Kettleburn" being mentioned in the books, so I doubted he was a Death Eater. Professor Chen certainly didn't seem like a Death Eater, but who knew what lurked under the friendly exterior. Of course, now that I thought about it, the rat wasn't limited to teachers. Students could be Death Eaters as well.

"Or had," I said. "The rat could've been a seventh year last year."

Rosier nodded. "If their rat graduated, then likely the Death Eaters will have found a replacement."

I flinched. I had just remembered who I was talking to. A student who spied for Voldemort was likely the child of a Death Eater. I bit the inside of my cheek and then asked, "Do you know who the rat is?"

"No," said Rosier simply.

My eyes narrowed.

"I do not," repeated Rosier. "Spies would not benefit from being well-known."

"Voldemort likely keeps his followers secret from one another," I said at last.

Rosier, I noticed, never flinched at the use of Voldemort's name.

After some thought, he said, "If You-Know-Who has spies in Hogwarts, then Dumbledore undoubtedly has them in the Death Eaters."

My eyes narrowed as the pale, pimpled face of Severus Snape flashed through my mind. Dumbledore would certainly get his spy, but it wouldn't be until after James and Lily's deaths. Did he have one before that? If he did, then it wasn't mentioned in the books.

"Time's up." Rosier abruptly rose to his feet. His head bumped into the stone ceiling, and he winced in pain.

"You're leaving?" I asked, blinking stupidly in my surprise. We'd barely touched the surface of the things I needed to know. I'd been so distracted by the talk of spies. I'd forgotten to ask more questions.

"Dueling Club meets on Wednesdays at half past seven." Rosier held out his left wrist so I could see the surface of his watch.

"It's barely past seven o'clock now."

Rosier smiled as he vanished both of the wooden chairs with a flick of his wand. "But the captain can't be late."

I wrinkled my nose. Of course, he was the captain.

As he left the broom closet, Rosier glanced over his shoulder at me and said, "I'll see you tomorrow, Marlene."

And just like that, once again, Rosier had left me alone in this broom closet. At least this time, I wasn't sprawled out on the floor. With a heavy sigh, I picked up my bookbag and slipped the strap over my shoulder. Unconsciously, I slid a hand into the bag and felt the soft fabric of the baseball cap.

I hadn't gotten to ask him the most important question. _Are you the rat?_

* * *

That was not the end of our meetings. On Saturday, after my run with James, I showered and then made my way back to the broom closet. Rosier filled me in on Marlene's family as best he could. He recounted stories that she'd told him while they were deciphering dreams and reading astrology charts in Divination last year. He told me about Marlene's pet salamander who'd found his way onto her ma's pillow in the middle of the night and about the hideous nutcracker Marlene had painted as a child that her da insisted on giving a place of honor to on the mantle every yuletide. Rosier was hazy on the details at times, but he remembered enough. Every detail helped.

The next week went much more smoothly. On Sunday, I managed to stumble through a conversation with Mary about our revolving door of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. We'd debated whether Melrose or Borowitz had been a better teacher. James and Lily joined us just when I suggested the position might be cursed, and James had called me paranoid.

Then, on Monday, I helped Peter cast an owl-conjuring spell (which, luckily, I'd learned the night before while wearing the diadem). Remus had been looking a little peaky last week, much to Mary's concern, and at lunch, I had to listen to James and Sirius have an entire conversation about Remus's "furry little problem" with a forced expression of blank confusion on my face. When Lily asked after Remus's pet rabbit, it took all my willpower not to laugh aloud. James asked me what was so funny, and I stammered something along the lines of "I hope Remus can get his rabbit under control."

I even managed to greet Marlene's younger brother in the common room on Tuesday night. He eyed me warily, but I tried my best to be as open and positive as Marlene would've been. I might have overdone it in places, talking _too_ enthusiastically about the first match of the season between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Still, Hartley looked at me a little less cautiously when we parted ways that night.

Things were getting easier. They were by no means perfect. There were so many things I still didn't know, and slip ups happened from time to time. I could only stare at James blankly when he started talking about the dramatic ending to a Quidditch match that I'd supposedly attended with my brother. And when Dorcas asked me about a delicious tea we'd supposedly had a Madam Puddifoot's, I could only say "I don't remember" much to her disappointment.

Still, any day where they didn't look at me with concerned stares was a victory, and I felt as though I was taking small steps away from being locked away in Azkaban.

There was, of course, no helping the fact that I disappeared to the Room of Requirement almost every day. I made time throughout the week to study with Marlene's friends, but most of my work was done at the mahogany desk. I had finished almost all of the first year coursework by this point, added some hexes and jinxes to my repertoire, and practiced the Shield Charm until I was halfway decent at it. It would, of course, do nothing against Rosier, but it was better than being completely defenseless.

The diadem still gave me headaches, and I probably wouldn't have survived without the pain relief potions Lily continued to brew for me in Potions Club. When I thanked her, she told me that it was no big deal and that she liked to experiment with different ingredients to see if she could make it taste better. I told her if her experiments sent me to the Hospital Wing, she owed me big time.

Helena continued to stalk Regulus Black and Severus Snape for me. Every night before I put on the diadem and began studying, I would sit in the overstuffed armchair and listen to Helena's recounts of the boys' activities.

"Black is at Qudditch practice," said Helena one night. "The captain was telling him about a difficult move for Seekers when I left. And Snape is in his common room, studying with two of those horrid friends of his."

I nodded. There hadn't been anything of real interest in her reports of Regulus Black. He spent his days hanging out with other Slytherins. His best friend, Travis Wilkes, was also a future Death Eater. Black used the word "mudblood" and said that they "should never step foot in this castle" when he thought no one outside his friend group was in earshot. He occasionally got into fights with Gryffindors, Fabian and Gideon Prewett. His best subject was Defense Against the Dark Arts. He played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team and had since his fourth year. He never spoke to his brother, Sirius, and if they passed one another in the corridors, they pretended to be strangers. There was, I thought, very little I could do with this information. Though, there was one thing about Regulus that had caught both Helena's and my attention…

"He once again spent dinner talking with your Slytherin friend," said Helena. She watched me through sharp, gray eyes. "He seems to be a fan."

"You think Regulus Black is a fan of Evan Rosier?" It was hard to keep the scoff from my voice.

"A feeling," said Helena. She looked a little offended at my doubt. "I have been watching the boy for almost a fortnight. He and his friend Wilkes seem to gravitate toward Rosier. They would follow your friend into battle, I believe. It would not surprise me to learn that Black joined the Death Eaters for Rosier in the story you know."

I frowned. I had seen Regulus Black sitting beside Rosier at the Slytherin table some nights. The sight had disturbed me. Rosier's influence was never a good thing. Especially not when I wanted to convert Black to my side. I already felt exhausted just thinking of having to maneuver through Rosier's tricks and games. And, of course, Rosier would figure it all out without me saying a word. He was just that sort of annoying.

"You friend is dangerous, is he not," said Helena.

When wondering why I hadn't arrived in the Room of Requirement, she'd stumbled across Rosier and me leaving the same broom closet on Wednesday. She was smart enough to know we weren't shagging in there, and I'd had to answer her endless questions.

"I'll figure out what to do with him," I said.

"He complicates matters. I always try to listen to his conversations with Black, but it is impossible to hear what they are discussing most times." Helena drifted backwards, her mouth twisted into a frustrated scowl. "Your Slytherin friend is very tricky with his warding spells. He does _not_ want to be overhead."

A wry smile worked its way onto my face. "Yeah, Rosier is like that."

"How impossible to deal with," muttered Helena.

She had no idea.

I drummed my fingers against the leather armrest. "He's friends with both Snape and Black. I don't want him to know what I'm doing, but there's no way he won't notice."

"I believe Black will tell him if you show any of your hand," said Helena. "It is hard to describe, but I have watched him long enough that I can see the light in his eyes when he talks to Rosier. I believe when he is thrown into doubt, Rosier is the one Black will turn to for advice."

Helena _had_ been the one tailing Regulus Black for these last two weeks. As much as I hoped her assessment was wrong, I had to trust her advice on this. I'd never had a conversation with Black, and he was little more than a side plot in the books.

"Snape and Rosier may be friends," I said, "but I don't think Snape would share his troubles with Rosier."

"I agree." Helena ran her fingers through her silvery, translucent hair as she spoke. "Snape spends time with his friends, but he is not so dependent on them. He keeps his struggles as his own."

"He also won't want them to know about Lily," I said after considering her words. "His friends are all arrogant blood-purity arseholes. If they learn he's trying to rekindle his friendship with a muggleborn like Lily, he risks ostracism."

Helena curled her hair around her finger as she said, "He does not share his feelings and struggles with his friends, but they are very important to him. He likes to please them. When Avery voiced his dislike of Professor McGonagall, Snape fervently agreed even though he had told Rosier a couple days prior he thought McGonagall was very fair. And when Dovetail complained about people eavesdropping on her conversations, he swiftly taught her a spell that I had never heard of before."

" _Muffliato_ ," I murmured.

"You know the incantation?" asked Helena.

"It is one of Snape's own inventions."

Helena did not question how I had learned a spell Snape invented. Instead, she let go of her hair and stared at me with a slight frown. "Do you mean that Snape creates his own spells?"

"And his own potions," I said. " _Levicorpus_ is one of his own making too."

Helena opened her mouth and then closed it again. Her lips pursed together. I waited, watching her struggle with her words, until at last, Helena said, "I once told you that Snape occasionally goes to a small area on the south side of the grounds to practice spells."

"Yes?"

"I did not think it at the time," said Helena, "but he was reciting incantations I did not recognize."

"You think he was practicing the spells he invented there?"

"I believe he may have been."

It was a private place, then. When Helena had first discovered the spot in the south grounds, Snape had been with Dovetail and Avery. Because of that, we'd both assumed it was a place where all the future Death Eater gang gathered. But it seemed perhaps both Helena and I had thought wrong.

"Thank you," I said, glancing up at Helena. "I know how boring you must find following students around."

Her eyes widened a fraction, but she only said, "It has its dull moments, but it is a vast improvement on the mindless days of wandering the halls."

Nothing more needed to be said on the matter. I leaned back in the armchair and stared at the baseball cap that rested on my copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_.

Snape definitely hadn't forgiven me for the Lily incident. I'd expected him to hold a grudge and seek vengeance in some form. For the past week, I'd walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, expecting jinxes aimed at my back. And yet, there'd been nothing. Much to my disappointment, Snape had left me alone.

I drummed my fingers on the armrest. "Shall we make the next move, then?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment! What do you think will happen next? What will Marlene's move be? Will she succeed? Do you trust Helena?


	10. Ten of Pentacles Reversed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 10! I promise you, next chapter is where Marlene makes her true move. Now that Marlene's more settled, the real plotting can finally begin.
> 
> Please, please leave a review!

**PART ONE: IN VITAM**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Ten of Pentacles Reversed**

Students didn’t often visit the south side of the Hogwarts grounds. The most popular spots were courtyards, the edge of the Great Lake, and the paths that lead to the Quidditch pitch and training yard. The south side of the grounds required one to follow the dirt path down a steep hill slope until one reached a flat grass area about a hundred yards away from dark tree line of the Forbidden Forest. I had passed it a few times on my morning runs with James, but it wasn’t a place we lingered.

The spot was hidden from view of the school, so I’d thought students would like it for the privacy. However, there was a mishappen statute of a wizard on a headless horse that overlooked the Forbidden Forest. According to James, the statute was cursed. Rumor in the school was that professors had tried to restore the horse’s head, but some spell shielded the statute from any kind of tampering.

I stared up at the misshapen statute carved from white stone. The wizard towered above me, his face tipped back towards the overcast sky. His robes permanently billowed in the non-existent wind, revealing an empty scabbard at his side. In his right hand, he held a sword, its blade pointed forward, and in his left hand, he held a thin wand. Moss crept from his neck down to the hem of his robes and onto the horse’s saddle and legs. The horse’s body was lean and strong, but the effect was lost when the powerful neck was abruptly severed. Its moss-covered head lay on grass some meters away. The name of the wizard had been lost with time, the words scratched away on the pedestal.

For a moment, I was sorely tempted to cast _scourgify_ on the statue, just to see if James had been right about it being immune from magic. But I felt a bit silly casting the spell with Helena watching.

“Are you certain Snape will be here?” I asked the empty slope.

“Yes.” Helena’s disembodied voice came from somewhere to my right.

She’d found me early in the morning to tell me that Snape planned to go to the south side of the grounds after breakfast. It was Friday, and as I didn’t have any classes until after lunch, we figured now was the perfect time to catch Snape alone.

“What did he say to Avery exactly?” I asked.

“He said he wanted to work on ‘the spell’ this morning,” said Helena. “Avery reluctantly offered to join him, but Snape insisted on practicing alone.”

“‘The spell’?” I repeated softly.

“I would assume the same spell he was discussing with Avery and Dovetail when they joined him here,” said Helena.

It was rather disconcerting to talk to someone invisible. I shifted slightly and eyed the spot to the right of the statue where I thought Helena was. “Did you hear any more of what they said?”

“No. That pesky muffling spell stopped me.”

I nodded my head once. Magic was such a pain to deal with.

A chilly wind swept along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I stared out the expanse of pine and juniper trees that stretched out before me as far as the eye could see. In the gray of the morning, the forest seemed harmless enough. But, of course, I remembered the nest of spiders from the _Harry Potter_ books, and there had been mentions of wolves and bugbears in the depths of the woods. A shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the cool October morning.

“What do you plan to say to him?” asked Helena suddenly. “You know your words alone will not alter his thoughts.”

I caught sight of a long, thin tree branch lying at the base of the pedestal. Rather than answer Helena’s question, I picked up the tree branch, weighing it in my hands. It seemed to be the right size and weight for what I wanted. After a moment, I opened my enchanted bookbag and dropped the branch inside. I hoped the bark didn’t make too much of a mess. Once the bag was safety shut again, I looked up to spot a thin, shadowy figure at the top of the slope. I checked the statue, to make sure I was properly hidden from view, before I watched the boy in black Hogwarts robes making his way down to the flat.

“It’s Snape,” whispered Helena, her voice disconcertingly close to my ear.

As he drew closer, I could make out the large nose and pale face of Severus Snape. He hadn’t noticed me yet, it seemed. His intense gaze was fixed on a patch of grass a few meters to the left of the statue. Lost in his thoughts, he seemed blind to the world around him.

But then, he raised his wand and gave it a lazy flick. I recognized the gesture. It was similar to the spell Rosier always cast before entering the seventh floor broom cupboard. I felt the familiar warm, gentle breeze pass by me, and when I looked up, I saw that Snape’s stare had fixated on the statue.

“Come out,” he sneered. “I know you’re there.”

I kept my hands clear of my robes, wanting him to see that I wasn’t armed for a fight. Then, I stepped out from behind the pedestal.

Snape’s eyes sharpened, and he directed his wand at me. He didn’t jinx me immediately. I’d guessed he wouldn’t. If I was lying in wait for him, there was always a chance I had a plan. And if that plan involved professors, jinxing me was the worst move Snape could possibly make. It was best for him to wait and see what I wanted first. He only said, in a sneering voice, “McKinnon.”

“Hello, Snape.” My head tilted slightly to the right, and I felt my left eyebrow involuntarily quirk up. “I thought I might find you here.”

“You did, did you?” snapped Snape.

I gave him a small, bland smile but said nothing. Helena drifted about somewhere on the patch of flat grass. She remained an invisible and silent spectator, just as we’d planned. It seemed whatever sensing spell Snape and Rosier used didn’t detect the presence of ghosts.

“And, tell me,” said Snape, his voice low and deadly, “why I shouldn’t hex you right now for all the humiliation you put me through?”

“I humiliated you?” I kept my tone light and innocent with just a hint of confusion.

Snape’s barred his teeth. “Telling me that Lily wanted to be friends again. She didn’t want to be friends. You saw it! You saw how she treated me!”

“I told you I wanted to help,” I said calmly. “I did _not_ tell you to walk up to Lily and expect everything to be magically resolved. She can want to be friends with you again and worry about you, but also not want to accept the choices you’ve made up until this point.” I emphasized the last part. _Up until this point_. Because now was the time to change.

Snape’s face was slightly red as he glowered at me. “And why would I believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” I asked. “I want to help Lily. She’s my friend. I want what’s best for her. She was happy when you two were friends, and I want her to be happy like that again.” I hesitated, as if the next part was difficult for me to say. “I also worry about her…because of certain people.”

Snape’s eyes instantly narrowed. His shoulders tightened, and I knew he was already preparing to defend his friends.

“I know they’ve helped you a lot,” I said quickly. “I know you feel they accepted you when no one else would. But…they want to _hurt_ Lily.”

Snape’s head jerked at that last line. He spoke as if it was reflex: “They won’t hurt Lily.”

I actually did a doubletake at that. It took all my self-control to keep my expression neutral. Was Snape seriously fool enough to believe that the likes of Proudfoot and Goyle wouldn’t hex Lily for being a muggleborn the first chance they got?

As if he realized what I was thinking, Snape hurriedly corrected himself, “They won’t hurt her. Rosier wouldn’t let them.”

Rosier. My whole body stiffened at the mention of his name. Of course that twally-washer would be involved. I couldn’t escape him. And now a new obstacle had appeared between Snape and me. How would I convince Snape that his friends _would_ dare to harm Lily when it seemed Rosier had guaranteed her safety to Snape? What kind of influence did Rosier have over Slytherin house? Did he have enough control that he could stop Proudfoot and Goyle from jumping Lily in the corridors?

During my first interactions with Rosier, he’d reminded me a little of Snape. Someone who was friends with that group but who also dwelled on the edge of it. His thoughts and struggles, he kept to himself. But now, it seemed Rosier was much more involved than I thought, if he could make sweeping promises like keeping his fellow Slytherins away from Lily Evans.

A sharp, icy feeling passed through my left shoulder. No doubt Helena had just grabbed me with her invisible hand, trying to remind me why we were out there in the chilly October morning.

“And you trust Rosier?” I asked.

“You don’t like Rosier,” said Snape coldly. Not bothering to answer my question.

“We’re Divination partners.” I didn’t dare push Snape on the topic Rosier. It wasn’t why I was there. “We like each other well enough. As I always say to him, just because our friends don’t get along, it doesn’t mean we can’t.” I gave Snape a meaningful look.

“You and I will never be friends,” sneered Snape.

“I didn’t say we were going to be.” I kept my voice calm and even. “I want you and Lily to be friends. And I want your fellow Slytherins to stay far away from her. I didn’t like the way Proudfoot and Avery were watching her before Potions Club on Monday. Even if you don’t want my help rekindling your friendship with Lily, at least keep her safe from them.”

There was the slightest change in Snape’s dark eyes, and I knew my words had hit their mark.

With that, there was nothing more to say. I turned around, passed the broken statute of the wizard-knight, and started my way up the winding dirt path. I didn’t have to look over my shoulder to know that Snape’s gaze followed me. I kept my strides even and purposeful, trying to exude and air of confidence.

“Do you think he will listen?” whispered Helena’s disembodied voice when we neared the top of the slope.

“Not yet,” I said softly. “But our move has only just begun.”

Silence followed my words, so long and stretched out that I thought Helena had left me. But at last, in deep, sorrowful tones, she asked, “Do you truly think this will save Marlene’s family?”

I bit the insides of my cheeks. When I’d told her the plan, I had expected her to accept it with her usual cold, calculatedness. However, she had seemed less than thrilled, almost reluctant, to go along with me. Even now, she was doubting.

“It is a step,” I said. “Every step, no matter how small or dangerous it may seem now, will bring us that much closer to saving Marlene’s family.”

“I see.” Helena said nothing more.

“Catch.”

The door of the broom closet had barely closed behind me when Rosier tossed something at me. On instinct (I assumed Marlene’s Chaser reflexes took over), I caught the red, ball-like object. It squished when it contacted with my fingers, feeling rough and wet like a large tongue, and instantly, a foul smell washed up over me. The stench was something like a mixture between sewage and sour milk. I gagged as I threw whatever the hell it was back at Rosier.

He caught it easily in what looked to be a green, velvet cloth. His nose wrinkled ever so slightly as he wrapped it up again. The red leathery hide spotted with pale warts disappeared beneath the expensive fabric. As soon as the red ball was completely covered, the smell vanished, and I guessed the velvet had to have some sort of dampening spell on it.

“What was that?” I asked, glaring at the lump in Rosier’s hands.

“Foeteprimi.” Rosier’s gaze raked over my face before he opened his bookbag and put the velvet cloth away. When he looked up again, he scowled and said, “It’s a flower bud. The smell of it causes Metamorphmagi to revert to their original appearances.”

I scrunched up my nose. “ _That_ ’s a flower?”

“Bud,” corrected Rosier. “It only blooms once a year. Its pollen undoes any concealing spells. They’re very expensive.”

“How’d you get one?”

“My uncle is a Herbologist for St. Mungo’s.”

 _And is he a Death Eater too_? The question remained on the tip of my tongue, though I didn’t dare voice it aloud. Instead, I eyed his bookbag wearily. “You’re not going to make me watch the flower bloom just to make sure I’m not using a concealing spell, are you?”

A wry smile appeared on Rosier’s face. However, he didn’t answer as he flicked his wand and conjured an elegant wooden chair from nothing. He then looked at me, right eyebrow raised questioningly, and gestured to the empty spot in the broom closet. I ignored him and instead raised my own wand. “ _Sellaparte_.” A polished chair made of black walnut appeared on the stone floor. I promptly sat in it and, looking up, saw that Rosier watched me with that same annoying smile.

“So, you’ve established that I’m not a Metamorphmagus,” I said. “What’s your next theory?”

“That would ruin the surprise,” said Rosier as he settled into his own chair. “You’re a quick learner.”

“I just had to refresh my memory,” I said as though I hadn’t poured through the textbooks in the Room of Requirement, trying to find the spell for conjuring chairs. “It’d been awhile since I cast _sellaparte_.”

We fell into our usual routine after that. Today, the topic was Hogwarts gossip. I asked about people in our year. Who were the prefects? Who was the best in each subject? Then, I asked about friend groups. The Marauders were obviously famous, but there was apparently a group of popular Ravenclaw girls as well. I asked about feuds. The most renowned was between the Marauders and Rosier’s future Death Eater gang. However, Edythe Dovetail seemed to have a notorious dislike for Lily and me. I asked about dating rumors after that. It turned out Remus and Mary had snogged once in fourth year at a Quidditch party, and Dorcas was part of the Forever Single’s Club with Marlene. I had nothing to say to Rosier about the topic of Dorcas’s love life.

“What do people say about Snape and Lily?” I asked the question casually enough, but Rosier still frowned when he heard it.

It wasn’t unreasonable for me to ask. Lily was Marlene’s friend and knowing the gossip about them was important to passing off as the real Marlene. Still, it seemed Rosier was loathe to discuss Snape. My mind flashed back to that morning, when Snape stood on the south side of Hogwarts grounds, confidently declaring that Rosier would make sure the other Slytherins didn’t hurt Lily. I bit the insides of my cheeks, trying to keep my expression neutral as I felt Rosier’s gaze rake over my face, searching for clues. There was something hidden. Some secret between Rosier and Snape that Rosier did not want me to touch. It seemed, however, that Snape was much less desperate to guard that secret than Rosier was.

“Everyone knows they used to be friends,” said Rosier. His voice was deep and measured, showing no sign that he’d hesitated for even a moment. “And that there was an emotional fallout between them at the end of fifth year. They were an odd pairing to begin with, as you can imagine, so no one was surprised when Evans ended it.” He glanced at me. “There were some rumors in third and fourth years that Severus fancied Evans.”

“Has Snape ever dated anyone?” I asked.

“No.”

“Do you believe those rumors about Snape fancying Lily?” I knew the answer, but I was curious to hear what Rosier had to say. Rosier had no problem throwing his other friends—Dovetail, Avery, Proudfoot—under the river, but for some reason, he seemed determine to protect Snape.

Rosier’s mouth curved up into a sly smile. “I do. In fact, I believe he still fancies Evans.”

My head jerked ever so slightly.

“Surprised?” That one word dripped with sarcasm. “I would have thought you knew that.”

My eyes narrowed. I was sure Rosier would read my expression, but there wasn’t much I could do about that. Instead, trying to keep my voice nonchalant, I said, “I suspected he did. I’m surprised you’d admit it to me though.”

If Rosier found my words suspicious, he didn’t show it. He only leaned back in his chair and said, “It won’t work out for Severus though. Evans started fancying Potter at the end of last year.” He glanced at me. “Potter dated Joanna Stebbins for a couple months in the spring, and rumor has it, Evans spent all of March sulking. I don’t know what caused Potter and Stebbins to end it. That rumor never reached the Slytherin common room.”

He wanted to change the subject. I briefly wondered if I should try to bring it back to Snape and see if I could get any more information out of Rosier. But focusing too much on Snape would likely raise Rosier’s suspicions. The longer I could stop Rosier from learning that I was targeting Snape, the better. So, instead, I asked, “Has Lily dated anyone?”

“Caradoc Dearborn,” said Rosier without missing a beat. “He’s a Ravenclaw Chaser in our year. I don’t know all the details. I heard he asked her to Hogsmeade in October last year, and they dated for a few months. They still speak regularly in classes, so it seems there were no hard feelings.”

I nodded my head. His words made sense. Bit by bit, the story of how James Potter and Lily Evans fell in love formed before me. And this was the year where finally all the pieces fit together perfectly.

“You haven’t dated anyone.” Rosier watched me through heavy-lidded eyes as he spoke. “I don’t think you’ve even snogged anyone. You’ve been too busy pining over Sirius Black these last few years.”

My hands twitched. Memories flashed through my mind. Awkward, light kisses behind the school gym before either of us knew how to use our tongues. Lying across the back seat of a silver Audi as hands found their way beneath my uniform. My throat sore from screaming as kisses and apologies rained down on my forehead, cheeks, and nose. I bit the insides of my cheeks to snap myself out of it. _You haven’t dated anyone_. If only that was true. Marlene and I were two different people. No matter how much I tried to be her, there was some things that could not be forgotten.

Rosier’s left eyebrow raised slightly higher than the other, and I knew he was reading into my reaction far more than I wanted him to.

When his eyes met mine, Rosier smiled and asked, “Or am I wrong, _Marlene_?”

I gritted my teeth, hating that he could read so much. And before I could stop myself, I asked, “And what about you, _Rosier_?”

He didn’t blink. In his usual, polished accent, he said, “You don’t remember? I dated Edythe for most of fifth and six years. We broke up sometime in February last year.”

I bit down hard on my tongue to stop my jaw from dropping. The image of Edythe’s sweet, angelic face appeared before my eyes. She was small and delicate, but whenever her eyes landed on Lily or me, her lips pulled back into a sneer and she looked as though she’d seen a cockroach scuttling through the corridor. I was so accustomed to seeing her shadowed by the burly John Avery, that I’d never imagined she could’ve dated anyone else.

“You two don’t match,” I said rather bluntly.

Rosier laughed. It was loud and sounded genuine, but I never trusted anything he said or did to be genuine.

“Our families are old friends.” Rosier still wore a ghost of a smile as he spoke in contrast to his dark eyes that surveyed me carefully. “It was expected of us. When we were both children, our mums talked about our marriage. When Edythe asked me to the Slug Club Yuletide dinner in fifth year, I saw no reason to refuse.”

I didn’t understand why he was telling me all this. I wasn’t fool enough to believe he’d been lulled into a false sense of security… But perhaps he was trying to do the same to me. Open up a little, with things that weren’t important, and maybe I’d think we were becoming friends. Then, I would start sharing personal information that _was_ important. It took all my willpower not to snort in disgust. Fat chance of that working out for him.

“So why’d you end it with Dovetail?” I asked, trying to fill my voice with genuine interest. If he was willing to share some of his personal life with me, then I certainly wasn’t going to stop him.

“She ended it with me.” Rosier ignored my surprise and said, “After the raid on Hogsmeade. She didn’t like that I’d stopped her from signaling the Death Eaters. She said I’d changed too much since my mum passed away.”

His tone was lazy, almost bored, but his gaze was very much alert. My mind raced as I tried to fit together every scrap of information he gave me. Simultaneously, I tried to determine if he was telling me the truth, and if he was telling the truth, why on earth _was_ he revealing all this to me.

Rosier must have known what he was doing to me, how crazy he was driving me, making my mind go around in circles. His mouth quirked up into a half-smile as he watched my facial expressions shift.

At last, I asked, “How did your ma pass away?”

“It was a type of heart failure.” Rosier said it simply and without any emotion. His tone certainly didn’t match Dovetail’s claim that his ma’s death had impacted him so deeply. “She died early in my sixth year. It even made the _Daily Prophet_. It was very shocking. No one even knew she was had a heart condition.”

“Sorry.” The flatness in my voice matched his. I tried to picture my own ma with her gray-streaked hair pulled up into a bun and her cold eyes fixed on me, reminding me exactly how much I was worth in that house. I found I couldn’t drag up the emotion I was supposed to feel when thinking of a mother’s death.

“It happens,” said Rosier.

We stared across the small, cramped broom closet at one another, and I found my own feelings reflected in his dark eyes. Likely, it was a trick, another one of his games, but for a brief moment, I found myself falling for it. Perhaps this boy who sat opposite me, whose da was Death Eater, understood some of my feelings. The thought faded as quickly as it came.

My hand flew up to my neck, and I traced the soft skin with me fingertips. It was too easy to get caught up in Rosier’s lies. My gaze drifted down to the floor as I asked, “Is there any other gossip I should know? I know about Angelice Codde and Edward Park. Sophia Pritchard and Ludovic Bagman—”

“That’ll never last,” added Rosier.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes as I remembered Bagman from the _Harry potter_ books. Pritchard was better off being free of him. However, I only said, “And Dovetail’s dating Avery now, I know that.”

“He asked her out at the end of last year,” said Rosier with a one-shouldered shrug. “He matches her interests much more than I did.”

I snorted. “So, she wants a guy who will follow her around?” I couldn’t imagine a description that _less_ suited Rosier.

Rosier grinned. “Exactly.”

“I’m surprised you two lasted as long as you did.” I was even more surprised that Dovetail had been the one doing the dumping. Of course, Rosier didn’t seem upset about it.

“Cornelian Bulstrode and Georgina Crabbe are together again,” added Rosier as an afterthought. “They’ve gone through the same pattern since fifth year. They’re famous for the dramatic shouting match they had in the Great Hall after our OWLs.”

“What was the fight about?”

“No one remembers.” Rosier leaned back in his chair. “And then you have the endless list of Sirius Black’s girlfriends. It used to break your heart to even think about them.” He gave me a twisted smile. “Angelica Codde in fourth year. Victoria Mayhew in fifth year—she’s a year older so you won’t have met her—and then Sophia Pritchard _before_ she dated Bagman. Then in sixth year, Black briefly dated Lucille Johnson, from Divination class, but theory is he was only snogging her because Potter was dating her best mate.”

My upper lip pulled back into a slight sneer at each name Rosier listed off.

When he’d finished, his eyes scanned my face and he openly smirked. “I take it your feelings for Black have vanished in the last few weeks.”

I said nothing. _She came on to me_. The slightly hoarse voice echoed in my memory. _I didn’t mean to. You know how it goes…one drink too many and anyone can take advantage of you…_ How many times had I heard those excuses? How many times had I bought them? How many times had I _not_ found out about? The image of Sirius Black’s in equal parts charming and arrogant smile flashed through my mind and then overlapped with someone else’s wicked grin.

No, it was better to forget about Logan.

Finally, my focus finding its way back to Rosier, I said, “I didn’t expect you to be this much of a gossip.”

“It’s important to stay informed,” said Rosier. “It’s helped you, hasn’t it?”

I couldn’t exactly argue with that. I leaned back in my chair and asked, “So, you have any good gossip on the professors for me?”

A glint entered Rosier’s eyes. “Certainly.”

Our secret meeting continued almost until dinner time. I almost forgot the time until Rosier’s stomach abrupt grumbled mid-way through out conversation about Hagrid’s rumored illegal pets. As soon as I saw the hour, I excused myself and abandoned Rosier in the broom cupboard.

I made my way through the empty corridors back down to the Hufflepuff Basement. There was only one other student in the common room, and she didn’t acknowledge my presence as I walked by.

Fifteen minutes later, I found myself alone in the seventh-year girls’ dorm room. I sat crosslegged on my four-poster bed, facing the tree branch I’d picked up from the grounds. It was a little longer than my forearm and rested innocently enough on the yellow duvet cover. A simple, normal stick. I dropped a gaudy, brass star decoration that I’d taken off one of Marlene’s necklaces and placed it precariously on top of the stick.

Briefly, I wondered if I could do this. I’d spent the past few nights learning and memorizing spells that could help me, but just because I’d been wearing the diadem, it didn’t mean I could get everything right on the first try. I sent a nervous glance at the dorm room door. Best to get this over with before dinner ended.

“ _Ligarcha_.” I moved my wand into a smooth curve before tapping the stick lightly.

The change was instant. The branch started to shorten, shrinking until it was about the size of my hand. Then it fattened, widening from only a couple centimeters to seven and then eight. A hole appeared in the middle, dipping down to form a sort of bowl-shape. Part of the branch curved over to create a cover. At last, the rough bark smoothed over into a carefully polished, black wood. In the end, what remained was a small, square box with brass hinges. There was a little key protruding from the lock. With a slightly trembling hand, I opened the box to reveal a little yellow cushion inside.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d read the chapter on transforming objects into boxes last night in the Room of Requirement, but I hadn’t expected to get the spell right on the first try.

I scooped my bookbag off the floor and hauled it onto my lap. My hand started to reach into the bag until I thought better of it. Grabbing the pillow behind me, I tugged the white case free and then wrapped the cotton fabric around my hand. Carefully, I rummaged in my bookbag until I found the sharp edges of the Veil shard. It still felt hot against my fingers through the pillowcase, but there was no burning sensation against my skin at least. With one last glance around the empty dorm room, I pulled the shard out of the bookbag.

The silvery, glass-like surface reflected the golden light of the room. It was no longer than my index finger, small and fragile. I didn’t understand why it burned me to touch. I couldn’t remember the _Harry Potter_ books ever describing the Veil as hot or fiery. In my memories, the Veil was something somber, dark, and mysterious.

Through the thin fabric of the pillowcase, I ran my finger along the edge of the shard. It was strange to think that such a small, seemingly benign thing had brought me here.

Curious, I tilted the shard from side to side, trying to see if I could peer into this other world of shadow and light that Helena had recounted. The Veil shard, however, revealed nothing but a thin, silvery surface. It glimmered like the surface of the Great Lake on a foggy morning, dark and unfathomable. Whatever depths lay in this Veil shard, they were hidden from me.

Of course, this thought was followed by a thousand questions: How had Marlene managed to break off a piece of the Veil? Did the Veil even function when it was missing a piece? How had she managed to watch her doppelgangers through this shard? Did it not burn her to touch? What spell had she used to switch places with me? Was there a book somewhere in the Hogwarts’ library that held the secrets beyond the Veil?

The questions were endless. However, now was not the time to ask them. Slowly, I placed the Veil shard inside the box. I firmly shut the lid, turned the lock, and then removed the little brass key. From the dresser, I took the chain of the gaudy star necklace. I slid the key into place and then hung the chain around my neck. My skin pricked at the feeling of cool metal.

Next, of course, came the issue of the box. I picked up my black walnut wand once again and carefully ran a finger over the smooth edge of the box. Deep breath. Swish, curve, and jab. “ _Collovis_.” The lock seemed to glow for an instant before settling back to its usual bronze color.

It seemed as though it had worked. Slowly, I extended a hand. As my fingertips drew closer to the lid, I felt a faint buzzing in the air. My hand jerked back. That was one spell down.

“ _Sigillius_.”

I’d read about this sealing charm in _The Book of Charms and Spells_. Some spells lay on top of each other with ease, like blankets meant to be stacked, while other spells had to be tinkered with, the cogs adjusted until they slid into place. The more spells one tried to knit together, the more difficult it became and the more tinkering that was needed. Laying _sigillius_ on top of _collovis_ was fairly simple, I found, likely because they were both sealing spells. _Collovis_ was meant to magically bind box keyholes, while _sigillius_ was meant to make it impervious to unlocking spells.

The next charm, _nolierdere_ , was a little trickier. It was meant to be an anti-destruction spell, so that spells like _annihilare_ would not work. While it didn’t lay down as easily as _sigillius_ had, I only needed to alter the incantation slightly and jerk my wand a little to the left to get the charm to settle into place.

 _Cavefacium_ , the Warding Spell, was ten times more difficult to fit into the puzzle. I failed the first time. My right arm shook as I clutched my wand, trying to maintain the spell. Then, suddenly, my arm jerked backwards with the force of the failed spell.

I took a deep breath. The _Harry Potter_ books and movies didn’t make spellcasting seem this difficult. The characters had simply raised their wands, said the incantations, and magic had happened. And now here I was, sweating as I attempted to cast one spell on top of the other.

As I prepared myself to cast _cavefacium_ again, the image of Rosier flashed through my mind. He stood inside the little broom closet, head slightly bent as he cast warding spell after warding spell. He’d layered about nine spells on that room if I’d counted correctly. And now I was having trouble with just four. _That_ was the guy I’d managed to make an enemy of…or was he an ally? I wasn’t entirely certain at this point.

Raising my wand yet again, I said in a strong and clear voice, “ _Cavefacium_.”

It took me little short of half an hour to finishing laying all six spells that I’d memorized onto the little black box containing a piece of the Veil. I’d gotten _cavefacium_ on the second attempt, but the Anti-Counterspell Charm and the Obscuring Charm had taken me three or four tries each. By the time I was done, my eyes fluttered with exhaustion. I didn’t understand how Rosier—or any witch or wizard for that matter—managed to stay awake after casting so many spells. Hopefully it was one of those practice-makes-perfect things.

My legs trembled slightly when I slid out of bed and made my way over to Marlene’s wardrobe. I heard the sound of a door opening behind me and then Dorcas’s voice calling out, “Marlene, you here?”

I shoved the box into the hood of Marlene’s Quidditch robes before shutting the wardrobe doors behind me and quickly turning to face my fellow dormmates. I offered them my best smile. “Here!”

“You missed dinner,” said Jenn airily as she settled on the edge of her bed. “They had Hotch-Potch tonight.”

“Damn,” I said as I moved back to my own bed. “But I wasn’t very hungry. I had a big lunch.”

Dorcas’s mouth twisted into a frown. “You shouldn’t skip meals.”

“I’m making sure to eat regularly,” I said quickly. “I’d be hypocritical of me to scold Peter for not eating and then start starving myself.”

That didn’t seem to comfort Dorcas in the slightest, but she didn’t push the topic any further.

“Dory’s a worrywart,” said Jenn cheerfully. “We were going to have some herbal tea before calling it a night. Care to join us?”

In all honesty, I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and sleep for a full twelve hours. My right arm still trembled with exhaustion from casting spell after spell. However, I’d vowed to spend more time with Marlene’s friends, so I nodded my head and allowed Jenn to heat me some peppermint tea.

The three of us ended up chatting for hours that night. We talked about classes for a bit before the conversation drifted over to Jenn’s stories about animals. She recounting charming tales of Grindylows swimming in the lake and crossbills playing on the edge of the forest. Normally, I wouldn’t understand the appeal, but Jenn managed to make the creatures sound so fascinating that I couldn’t help but be drawn in. She almost convinced me that a Grindylow would make a good pet.

Greta joined us partway through the night, bringing with her the gossip that Edward Park and Angelice Codde had gotten into an argument outside the Hufflepuff Basement with Codde calling her boyfriend a “stubborn donkey” before she stormed off. And then, the four of us were discussing the Hogwarts dating scene. I silently thanked Rosier when I commented that Bagman and Prichard were never going to last.

The evening was surprisingly warm and comfortable, full of laughter. It was somewhere around midnight when I drifted to sleep with the thought of the Veil far behind me.

Outside rain pounded against the dark grass. My hands curled into fists, but instead of bedsheets, they grasped strands of soaked grass. My heart was racing as I felt the grass transform into shards of glass that cut and burned my skin. Rain poured in buckets, flooding my mouth and ears, until it felt like I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe. Water was everywhere. Something was pressing down on my throat. I trashed about, trying to escape. Green light filled my eyes. 

I woke up, gasping and panting and sweating through my pajamas. The curtains were drawn around the four-poster bed, but between the gaps I could see my dormmates fast asleep.

A dream. It had been just a dream.


	11. Knight of Swords Upright

**PART ONE: IN VITAM**

* * *

**Chapter XI: Knight of Swords Upright**

"How could he do that? He's Head Boy now. He can't cast jinxes whenever the mood strikes him anymore! Here I'd thought he'd grown up, but that tosser is still clarting about like he's a third year. He deserves a right lamping—"

When Lily got angry, her Midlands accent strengthened, and at times, it was difficult to decipher what she was saying. I copied Dorcas and Mary's expressions of concern, nodding my head here and there, as we stood in the courtyard and listened to Lily rant about whatever stupid thing James had done now.

Eventually, I managed to piece together the story. James had caught some Gryffindor with a dancing jinx this morning. Lily had walked in on the whole common room laughing as the red-faced fifth-year boy danced some sort of rumba to Celestina Warbeck's classic hit _You Stole My Cauldron But You Can't Have My Heart_. Personally, I thought the whole thing sounded like childish fun, but Lily was livid.

"What about poor Will Spinnet?" asked Lily. Her face was slightly pink and a crease had appeared between her arched brows. "He was embarrassed. And there James was— _Head Boy_ —laughing! Sometimes he drives me so barmy!"

"Will was upset," added Mary. "At least, his mates cheered him up quick. He was laughing with the rest of the house like nothing happened after that."

"That half-soaked tosser is lucky Will has such good mates," said Lily through gritted teeth. She said something else after, but her words were lost as a heavy wind blasted through the courtyard.

The second Sunday of October brought with it a biting chill, and even though we stood in a patch of clear sunlight, it wasn't enough to keep the cold away. We were bundled up in our gray sweaters, black robes, and house scarves. Lily had conjured a floating ball of fire to give us some heat and Dorcas had cast some sort of shield charm around us, but somehow the cold winds still managed to find their way in.

"We should go back inside," grumbled Mary. "I've had enough fresh air."

"A bit too fresh," I said after another gust of wind passed through the courtyard and nearly knocked poor Mary off her feet.

Dorcas nodded. "I can't be mad at James proper if my teeth are chattering."

Lily glanced up at the pale blue sky before agreeing with us. Dorcas led the way, and it wasn't until we were safely back in the warm halls of Hogwarts castle that the conversation began again. However, it seemed the change in setting had calmed Lily's mood.

"I thought he was different now," said Lily. Her Midlands accent had faded with her temper. "I thought he'd grown up over the last couple years, but it seems as though he's the same as ever."

"Him and Sirius are still playing the same pranks," agreed Mary as we made our way towards the Great Hall. "And Remus still lets them get away with it."

"Peter doesn't seem to fawn over them as much as he used to, mind," said Dorcas. "Maybe at least one of them has grown up."

As we walked down the corridor, one of the stained-glass windows caught Lily's eye. In panels of blues and greens, the window depicted the image of a witch kneeling at the edge of a pond. I watched as she stared at the glass for a moment. Then, she tore her eyes away and said, "I thought he'd changed, that's all."

"I don't think you were wrong," I said.

I glanced back at the stained-glass window. In my mind formed the image of James sprawled out on the edge of the lake, watching the sun rise on one of the rare sunny days in Scotland. We mainly talked about Quidditch after our runs (I now knew more about the Montrose Magpies than I ever wanted to), but there were a few times where our conversation would slip into darker topics. The joy would disappear from James's eyes, and he would survey the surface of the lake quietly. "We will stop them," he told me once. "They've taken our childhoods from us… We will not let them take anything more."

"What do you mean?" asked Mary.

I shook myself free of the memory and managed a faint smile for my friends. "The younger students shouldn't forget to have fun. Part of being a role model is reminding them that they're still kids. James was probably thinking like that."

Mary frowned, as if she couldn't believe James capable of deep thought.

"You should remember your own words, Marlene," said Dorcas gently as we took a right at the end of the hall.

I gave Dorcas a sharp glance and didn't bother replying.

Lily let out a heavy sigh. Something that might have been regret glimmered in her green eyes. "You're probably right. I shouldn't have scolded him. But still, there has to be a better way to remind them to have fun _besides_ jinxing poor Will."

"Well, y—" I began.

Lily stopped dead in her tracks, almost causing me to walk into her. Unfortunately, Mary wasn't so quick in stopping and nearly bowled me over. I grabbed onto Lily's shoulder to steady myself. However, my eyes remained fixated on the couple, further down the hall and half-hidden behind a pillar, who were snogging themselves senseless.

It was Dorcas who made a loud coughing noise, causing the couple to jump apart.

The shaggy black hair, pointed nose, and handsome features were all too familiar, and I couldn't help the way my nose scrunched in disgust as I looked over Sirius Black. His Gryffindor tie was hanging about his shoulders, while the top three buttons of his white shirt had been undone, revealing his pale chest. When he caught me staring, Sirius offered a broad grin.

The girl, whose lips were slightly swollen and golden hair was falling out of its bun, had the awareness to look embarrassed. She quickly unwound herself from Sirius's arms and started fixing her yellow and black tie. I recognized her from the Hufflepuff common room, but I didn't know her name or year.

"No snogging in the corridors," said Lily darkly. "Ten points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff each."

"Come on, now, Lily," said Sirius. "We were going to move to a broom cupboard soon."

I couldn't see Lily's face, but by the tension in her shoulders, I figured she wasn't in a forgiving mood. Especially after Sirius had aided in the embarrassment of Will Spinnet.

"I have to meet with my friends," said the Hufflepuff girl in a small voice. She sent one furtive glance in Lily's direction before giving Sirius a quick kiss on the cheek and hurrying away down the corridor.

Mary sent a worrying look in my direction. Perhaps she misread the disgust on my face for jealousy, because the concern in her eyes suddenly increased. She took a step closer to me and asked Sirius, dryly, "New girlfriend?"

Sirius nodded followed by a wide grin. "She's a little shy, so don't scare her off." He shot a warning look at Lily and Mary. "See you later. Don't be too hard on James, Lily."

My friends watched as Sirius strutted down the corridor, heading in the same direction as his new girlfriend. Probably to see if she still wanted to find that empty broom cupboard.

I barely spared him a glance before my head turned in the opposite direction. Something silver glimmered in the gap between two pillars. For a brief moment, the ghostly image of Helena appeared. She had one hand raised, her index finger pointing away from the Great Hall. An instant later, she vanished.

"What a lout," said Dorcas as soon as Sirius was out of earshot.

"She looks sweet too," added Lily.

"Speaking of people who haven't changed," muttered Mary. "Yet another girlfriend. Does that boy not know how to be alone?"

The image of a man on a wanted poster, dressed in a prison uniform, screaming at the world beyond flashed before my eyes. My disgust for Sirius faded a little, and I felt pity start to creep its way into my thoughts. However, now wasn't the time to muse on Sirius's fate. I glanced at Lily, who scowled as she watched Sirius disappear around the corner and out of sight. I had things to do.

With a faint smile, I said, "I think I'm going to pass on studying in the Great Hall today. Sorry."

My friends exchanged worried glances. Then, Dorcas offered me a soft smile, "You know how it goes. He'll break up with her in a month or two."

I stared at them. At first, I couldn't process what Dorcas was saying. Then, slowly, it dawned on me: Oh, they thought I still fancied Sirius Black.

"He's really not worth wasting time over," said Mary.

I opened my mouth to deny, to repeat yet again that I was over Sirius, but I quickly stopped myself. If they were willing to accept my disappearance as moping over Sirius and his new girlfriend, well, who was I to stop them.

"I'll be aye right," I said. It was a hard thing to make my voice sound as though I was forcing myself to be upbeat, but I think I managed well enough. "I only want some time to myself. I…thought I was over him. I supposed old feelings don't go away just because you want them to."

"You shouldn't be alone," said Mary. "Come study with us. You and Lily can rant about what dobbers Sirius and James are."

Normally, Lily would act upset at her relationship with James being compared to Marlene's obsession with Sirius, but right then, Lily only nodded her head in agreement. "Boys can be such tossers. We're better off without them."

"Thank you." It took effort to keep the strained smile on my face. I kept having to remind myself that the guy I fancied had a new girlfriend and I was trying to act positive for my friends. "I'll join you lot before dinner, I promise. I like to study on my own, you know that."

Eventually, and only after I swore that I'd meet them in the Great Hall later, Marlene's friends let me go. It didn't matter what time I promised to meet them. What I had to do wouldn't take me that long.

I slipped into the lavvy on the ground floor, and after checking the stalls to ensure no one was present, I cast a searching spell. A warm breeze brushed through the lavvy. I waited for the telltale buzzing to spread through my limbs to warn me of another human presence. There was nothing.

I'd spent a good few hours the previous night, pouring through books as I attempted to find the spell both Rosier and Snape had used. At points, I'd been in a panic, thinking it was a Half-Blood Prince spell and I've never learn the incantation. But shortly before midnight, I stumbled across _ultinamo_ in the last chapter of _Quintessence: A Quest_.

When the spell was completed, I surveyed the empty lavvy and then asked aloud, "Are you ready?"

The air shimmered. Helena Ravenclaw appeared in front of me, her gray slippers floating several centimeters off the floor. In her usual, sorrowful voice, she said, "If you are certain this is the wisest course of action."

I wasn't certain of anything since that rain-soaked road, but I wasn't going to tell Helena that. After casting a cloaking spell, _mentamon_ , over myself, I left the lavvy. Helena vanished once again, but I knew she was following me.

Navigating the corridors of Hogwarts whilst trying to avoid students was harder than I'd expected. I paused at the end of each corridor and cast the _ultinamo_ spell. Then, if less than three students lay in the path before me, I proceeded cautiously. The cloaking spell was delicate. It didn't hide me completely but rather caused gazes to overlook me. If I came too close to someone or made too large of movements, then I'd likely be discovered. When there were more than three students in a corridor, rather than risk coming in range of someone, I turned around and took another route. It was a long, arduous process, but staying hidden was too important to risk. For the first time, I was envious of James' Invisibility Cloak.

Finally, after a good twenty minutes of dodging in and out of corridors, I made it to the entrance of the dungeons.

I paused for half a second. Once I went down there, I couldn't turn back.

Everything that could go wrong filled my head—discovery, mistake, injury, Dumbledore, St. Mungo's, Azkaban—and I almost fled back to the lavvy. But no. Forward was the only route.

We had planned everything. We had checked if there were any protective spells that might get in our way. I had spent hours wearing the diadem and researching spells to disguise me, to undo locks, to detect hidden spells. Throughout the day, Helena had remained invisible as she lurked amongst the cauldrons and ingredients, keeping an eye on Slughorn. She'd waited until he left for his usual Sunday afternoon glass of wine with Professor Kettleburn before coming to find me. We'd timed everything. We even had a back-up plan upon a back-up plan if things went wrong. We were prepared. Nothing would go wrong.

After taking a deep breath, I started down the stairs to the dungeons. The air felt colder down among the dark bricks. Even though I wanted to pull my robes closer around myself, I didn't dare make such a big movement. Instead, I kept my steps calm and even as I walked through the empty corridor.

I glanced at the wall of framed photographs outside the main potions classroom. The faces of Slughorn's favorite students beamed out at me: a witch in long, black robes accepting an award, a blond-haired man on a racing room, a man with moustache laughing as he shook hands with the Minister for Magic. Briefly, I wondered if Slughorn had ever hung a photograph of Tom Riddle on that wall. The handsome youth had been popular before he turned into a mass murderer and sealed a part of his soul into the diadem. However, I quickly pushed such thoughts away. Now wasn't the time to think about that.

After slipping into the main potions classroom, I cast a spell to sense any protection charms. There were some on Slughorn's desk and some on the knickknacks that hung from the halls. However, no spells prevented me from entering the ingredients cupboard. Breathing a sigh of relief, I stepped under the stone archway into a space that was more of a side room than a cupboard. Rows upon rows of ingredients greeted me. Glass jars, capped vials, colored pots, wooden bins—all marked with neat, hand-written labels and placed in alphabetical order.

 _Watercress, crushed…_ w _aterpepper, whole…_ My eyes scanned the labels on each jar. _Wattleseed…wild thyme, whole…willow bark, whole…willow bark, paste…_

Even though I couldn't see her, I knew Helena lurked outside the ingredients' cupboard, keeping an eye out in case Slughorn or an over-eager member of Potions Club entered the classroom.

I was unscrewing the lid of the jar containing willow bark paste when Helena asked, "Do you dislike Sirius Black so much?"

I paused, holding the open jar, and glanced at the spot where I thought Helena was. Why was she bringing this up? Was it really the time to discuss Sirius Black? Rather than waste time, I set the lid down and then, with a flick of my wand, cast _scourgify_ on the jar. The contents vanished in an instant. I began rummaging through my bookbag as I asked, "Does it matter?"

"Marlene thought he was charming," said Helena, almost thoughtfully.

He was charming. They all were charming at first.

"He seems wild to me," continued Helena, apparently not needing an answer from me. "But I suppose there's something alluring about a boy that seems impossible to tame."

Didn't I know that?

I pulled a little wooden box out of my bookbag. I tugged the lid free and then started dumping its contents into the now empty jar labeled "willow bark, paste". The damp, brown substance was almost identical to the jar's previous contents. I'd spent a good half-hour in the Room of Requirement last night, furiously mashing ingredients together.

"But I do not think he is a bad sort," said Helena. "If Marlene liked him so much, he must be a decent fellow."

My eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the fondness in Helena's tone. However, I didn't bother to answer. I used a lighter version of _scourgify_ to clean the sides of the jar. Only when I was certain it was spotless, that not even the most discerning eye could tell the contents had been swapped out, did I place the jar back on the self.

"You dislike him very much," said Helena. "Even though you are friends with that Rosier, you dislike Black more."

_Beetle eyes, whole…beetle eyes, crushed…beetle wings, whole…beetroots, whole…beetroots, juiced…_

"It's not that I like Rosier," I muttered as I pulled yet another jar off the shelf. "It's just that I don't have much choice but get along with him."

"I see." Even though I couldn't see Helena's face, I could hear the doubt and disapproval in her tone.

She said nothing as I pulled yet another wooden box out of my bookbag and began replacing the vanished beetroot juice with another thick, red substance. However, as I worked, I felt the heavy silence settle around me. She hadn't given up on the topic; she was simply waiting.

I fought back a sigh. It wasn't good to be at odds with Helena. Here she was, keeping watch while I swapped ingredients in the potions classroom. She knew too much. All it would take was a word from her for my entire existence as Marlene McKinnon to come crashing down. She helped me now, but I wasn't under any delusions that her actions were out of loyalty to me. At first, I'd thought she followed me out of academic curiosity, but now, I realized I'd been wrong. She was doing this for the real Marlene.

"Black reminds me of someone from my previous life," I said at last. "My ex-boyfriend."

After a long moment, Helena's voice sounded from somewhere to my left. "Your past boyfriend must have been very handsome."

I snorted. "It's not that they look similar. There are moments, I guess, when I see similarities in their faces. But it's more their attitudes that are similar. And the endless string of girls."

"I see." There was nothing of mockery in Helena's tone, only a simple honesty. It seemed as though she really did understand.

"They're not the same, of course," I said as I screwed the lid back on the jar. "It's just a resemblance."

"Hide."

Helena' crisp voice cut through the air just as I placed the jar labeled beetroot juice back on the shelf. I glanced at the entrance of the ingredients cupboard before pointing my wand at me and hissing, " _Mentamon_."

I remained frozen in place, standing in the middle of the ingredients cupboard. Even though I could feel the thin blanket of magic covering me, I didn't dare move. There was something terrifying about being unable to see the effects of my spell, but still having to trust that the spell would hide me from unwary eyes.

A shadow passed by the broom cupboard. I could see the bald head and rounded stomach of Slughorn. His Sunday afternoon wine with Kettleburn must have ended earlier than usual.

I felt exposed and vulnerable. Even though I could feel the spell, I still believed that Slughorn need only look inside the ingredients cupboard to see me.

Don't come in here. Don't come in here. Don't come in here. I repeated the phrase over and over again, willing Slughorn to obey my silent command.

Thankfully, he didn't so much as glace at the ingredients cupboard. I listened to his footsteps as he crossed the classroom and then the sound of a chair being pulled back. Then, came the rustling of papers.

Briefly, I wondered if I could trust the cloaking spell and just walk out of the classroom on my own. Perhaps, if I was real Marlene, who had been raised in the magical world, I could trust the spell. But for me, I couldn't trust my magic. Walking boldly into the potions classroom and expecting Slughorn to simply not notice me. Absolutely mad.

That's why Helena and I had made a back-up plan.

From somewhere outside the classroom, I heard a female voice shout, "Peeves! Not Professor Slughorn's photographs!" followed by the sound of several objects breaking.

There came the sound of a chair scraping against stone, and then the shadow of Slughorn passed by of the ingredients cupboard once more.

I remained still, waiting until I heard the classroom door being wrenched open. And then, at last, I left the shelter of the ingredients cupboard.

I wanted to run. I wanted to flee as fast as my legs could carry me. I couldn't be caught. How could I explain this? What could I possibly say? Everything would be thrown into chaos. My promise to Marlene would be broken, and I'd end up in St. Mungo's or Azkaban.

No, I couldn't run. No matter how much my instincts screamed at me to flee, I could not listen. The cloaking spell wouldn't work if I made any large movements. The only thing I could do was take slow, even steps across the stone floor of the potions classroom. Past the desks. Past the book shelves. Through the open door. Step out into the corridor—

With one foot out the door, I froze. Shattered glass and splintered photo frames lay about the floor of the dungeon corridor. The faces of Slughorn's favorite students were still smiling as they waved up at the ceiling. Slughorn, in his maroon robes, stood over the shattered pictures. However, he wasn't looking at the remnants of his prized possessions. Instead, his attention was focused on the small man in an outlandish red and orange outfit who hovered a good two meters off the floor.

I remained rooted to the spot, gawking. When we'd been planning our dungeon adventure, Helena had suggested using Peeves as a distraction. Just calling his name, she'd told me, was enough to make any teacher come running. But I hadn't expected her to _actually_ get Peeves.

Peeves the Poltergeist was unlike any other ghost I'd seen at Hogwarts. He had a physical form, and his sharp eyes were a brilliant shade of orange. He wore a grin on his pale face that showed off his small teeth.

"Peeves!" bellowed Slughorn. I had never seen the potions professor mad before. His face was red and his wand was trembling with rage as he pointed it at the poltergeist.

"Peevesie was just doing some cleaning," said the poltergeist with a cackle. "Getting rid of useless things for Sluggy."

Calm, even steps. No sudden movements. Steady. Still.

With those thoughts, I walked slowly past Slughorn and Peeves.

My heart thundered in my chest, and my head hurt from keeping my actions small and contained. Still, I walked down the corridor, I walked up the stairs, and I walked out of the dungeons.

It didn't end there. There was no time to celebrate getting over that hurdle. In the hall outside the dungeons, there were two Gryffindors girls giggling over a magazine with a handsome wizard on the cover. I glanced at them before calmly, quietly walking past. Every single step from the dungeons to the lavvy echoed through my body, reminding me that at any moment everything could end.

I stepped into the lavvy and silently cast the _ultinamo_ spell. The warm breeze brushed through the lavvy, and when I was certain there was no other human being around, I collapsed again the stone wall. At long last, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you impressed?"

The air before me shimmered, and then Helena appeared with a smug smile.

"How'd you get Peeves?" I asked.

"I found him this morning," said Helena in a careless tone. She ran her fingers through her silvery hair as she spoke. "He is rather simple once you understand him. A little suggestion so he would be in the trophy room this afternoon, so that I could find him and steer him to Slughorn's photographs if you were in trouble."

I nodded. "Thank you."

Helena smiled. She seemed genuinely pleased. But then, her smile faltered a little and she surveyed me through heavy, gray eyes. "Did you complete your task?"

"Yeah. It's done."

She hesitated. "I hope your plan succeeds."

So did I.

* * *

There wasn't much to do after that but go to the Room of Requirement and study for a couple hours. I didn't like telling outright lies if I could help it, so I figured I might as well make some of what I said to Marlene's friends the truth. Helena joined me in the Room, though she remained silent while I put on my baseball cap and read through the third-year potions textbook. I'd expected her to bring up Sirius Black and my ex-boyfriend once more, and I had been gritting my teeth, trying to think of what to say. But Helena said nothing, and so the subject fell to the back of my mind.

About an hour before dinner, I made my way down to the Great Hall to join Marlene's friends. When I reached the Gryffindor table, however, Mary and Lily had already gone to Potions Club, and their places had been taken by the Marauders.

To my relief, Sirius was missing. I didn't feel like having to act out Marlene's one-sided love right then. I supposed Sirius was with his sweet girlfriend again, though I didn't check to Hufflepuff table for him. Dorcas sent me a worried glance, but I ignored her concern and slid into the seat next to Peter.

"Did you get a lot of studying done?" asked Remus.

"Yeah." I glanced across the table at James. "I'm surprised Lily let you sit with her."

James opened his mouth to respond but Dorcas cut across him, "He didn't join until after Lily left."

I glanced at James, and he nodded sheepishly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Peter struggling with his essay on improper uses of human transfiguration. I pulled out my own Transfiguration textbook so we could work together, and Peter shot me a grateful smile.

We didn't get very far. I'd only managed to write two sentences when I heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind me. Suddenly, two small hands grabbed my left shoulder in a vice-like grip. Careful to keep my eyes wide and surprised, I looked up to see Mary standing behind me. Her face was pale, and she bounced on the balls of her feet, as if she was in a hurry to go somewhere.

"Mary?" asked James, already half-risen from his seat. "What's the matter?"

"It's Lily!" Mary hissed the words, aware that other students in the Great Hall were watching us. "She's in the Hospital Wing!"

James out of his seat in a flash. He shoveled his homework into his bookbag and was gone from the Great Hall before Mary could say another word.

I had already put away my Transfiguration textbook, but I was nowhere near as fast as James. I watched him disappear through the doors of the Great Hall before I turned back to Mary and asked, "What happened?"

Mary didn't answer right away. She nodded her head towards the exist, and we all understood. After we gathered our things, we left the Great Hall to speak somewhere more private. As we passed by the Slytherin table, I saw Rosier and his friends watching us curiously. I threw a glare in Rosier's direction, thinking of the hours trapped in a broom closet so that my expression would be genuine.

Mary walked in front, leading the way to the Hospital Wing, with Dorcas and me on either side of her. Remus and Peter followed behind us, leaning forward so that they could hear Mary's words properly.

"We were in Potions Club," explained Mary. "Lily was making her Headache Relieving Potion for Marlene, like always. She's made it a dozen times before. She knows how to make it. But tonight, as she was boiling it, the potion suddenly started to spark and spit scalding liquid."

Dorcas's hands flew to her mouth. "Is she all right?"

"I walked with her to the Hospital Wing," said Mary. "She has some nasty burns, but Madam Pomfrey told me that she should could fix it up in a couple days."

"That long?" I asked, careful to keep my voice in a higher-pitch than usual. "Madam Pomfrey usually heals injuries with just a wave of her wand."

"I don't know," said Mary, frustration seeping into her voice. "Everything was a blur—I don't know."

There wasn't much to be said after that. We walked the rest of the way in silence, each absorbed in our own thoughts. I stole glances at Marlene's friends, taking in Dorcas's red eyes and Mary's pale face. I sent a silent apology to them. Sorry for putting them all through this. But there were things that needed to be done.

When we reached the Hospital Wing, we found James sitting on the floor outside. His head was bent forward, and one knee was pulled up to his chest. His hazel eyes were dark as he stared with a blank expression as the stone wall in front of him.

"James," called out Remus.

Slowly, James raised his head to look at us. "Madam Pomfrey won't let me in. She won't even tell me what happened."

"Well," I said, as I dropped down to take a seat on the floor next to him. "If you'd waited for us, you could have listened to Mary's story. Instead of running ahead and getting all worked up by yourself."

James sent me a weak smile. "Sorry."

There wasn't much for us to do. If Madam Pomfrey wasn't letting James in, then she certainly wasn't going to let the rest of us see Lily. Peter sat down next to James and me on the floor, while the other three remained standing. Remus kept glancing in the direction of the Hospital Wing door, while Dorcas wouldn't stop wringing her hands. Mary did end up repeating the story for James' sake.

James listened with a stony expression. When she was finished, James leaned back against the wall and said, "Lily would never mess up the ingredients for a Headache Relieving Potion."

I nodded along with his words, but then I looked up at Mary and asked, "Lily said she usually experiments with the ingredients though. Do you think she accidentally mixed two ingredients that don't belong together?"

Mary shook her head. "Lily would never make a mistake like that."

"Normally," I said. "But she was…distracted today." I added the last part with a glance in James' direction.

James let out a groan. "I should have left Will Spinnet alone."

"It's fine," I said. "She'd half-forgiven you already last I saw her."

That thought didn't seem to cheer James up in the slightest. And who could blame him with Lily lying in the Hospital Wing behind us. My stomach twisted, and I gave James a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"If it was those wannabe Death Eaters," sneered James through gritted teeth. "If they did something to Lily—"

"It was the potion," I reminded him. "How could some students make a Headache Relieving Potion explode like that? Mary was in the classroom the whole time." I glanced over at the person in question.

Mary frowned. "Dovetail, Proudfoot, Snape. Those are the only three Slytherins in Potions Club that I could see trying to hurt Lily like this."

"Snape wouldn't hurt Lily," said Dorcas.

"Who knows what he'd do anymore," said James darkly.

"He might be mad that she brushed him off when he tried to befriend her again after Herbology that one time," added Mary.

"He tried to talk to her after Herbology?" asked Remus. He glanced at Dorcas and me, and upon seeing the agreement in our eyes, said, "Did he think that would work?"

I shrugged my shoulders but couldn't find anything to say. It was funny though, how they somehow instinctively sensed that this concerned Snape. I wanted to pull my knees up to my chest, but the skirt of my school uniform stopped me. Scowling, I folded my arms across my chest. My gaze shifted to the door of the Hospital Wing, and I bit down on my tongue. I hoped this worked. It _had_ to work. Or this would've all been for nothing.

"I don't know what he was thinking," said Dorcas. "Lily wasn't interested in hearing him out, mind. But I still don't think he'd do something like this to her."

James and Remus looked skeptical, but then Peter's thin voice piped up, "What about Dovetail?" He glanced over at me. "She's always had it out for Lily and you."

"But how?" I asked, unwilling to pin the blame on anyone just yet. "Was there ever a time where Lily's cauldron was left unattended, Mary?"

Mary's eyes narrowed as she tried to remember. Before she could respond, Peter caught sight of something down the corridor. We all turned and saw the figures of two professors in floor-length robes making their way towards us. Slughorn's bald head glinted in the torchlight of the hall. Unlike his red-faced angry expression from earlier, his face was now pale and his brows narrowed.

My gaze passed over Slughorn to the other professor. He was tall and thin with a snow-white beard beneath a twice-broken nose and half-moon spectacles. His blue eyes were kind as he looked at us, but rather than feel reassured, my stomach dropped and I wanted nothing more than to disappear under the cloaking spell once more.

This was my first time seeing Professor Dumbledore up close. Before now, he'd only been a distant figure up at the teachers' table. When I'd read the _Harry Potter_ books, Dumbledore had been a warm, guiding figure to Harry. Even in his worst moments, Dumbledore had been a reassuring presence. But now, I didn't feel warm or comfortable or any other positive feelings. I felt as though, at any moment, Dumbledore was going to order me to his office. His bright blue eyes would turn cold, and he'd tell me that I wasn't Marlene, that I was working for Voldemort, that I'd be thrown into Azkaban. Even if I begged and pleaded and tried to explain the truth, he wouldn't believe me. Or if he did believe me… This was the man who could go head-to-head with Voldemort. The man who would order Snape to kill him. The man who would groom Harry to die at the hands of Voldemort.

"Waiting to see Miss Evans?" asked Professor Dumbledore when he reached us. Despite his kind smile, there was something strained in his blue eyes. It seemed he'd discovered the cause of the exploding potion.

"Yes, Professor," said Remus. I nodded my head along with the rest of Marlene's friends.

"I need to have a word with Miss Evans," said Dumbledore, "but if Madam Pomfrey believes she is well enough, you may visit with her after."

We watched as Dumbledore, followed by a nervous Slughorn, entered the Hospital Wing and shut the door firmly behind them.

"It must be serious," said Dorcas in a low voice. "For Dumbledore to be here."

James tapped his foot against the stone floor. The sound echoed throughout the hall, but it seemed James didn't notice. He stared at the wall opposite without really seeing.

Dorcas frowned. "Do you really think it was one of the Slytherins?"

"Who else could it be?" asked Mary.

I remained silent.

Dumbledore and Slughorn didn't spend long in the Hospital Wing. It couldn't have been for more than fifteen or twenty minutes. Of course, for us, it felt like an eternity. Remus, Dorcas, and Mary briefly discussed whether Dovetail or Proudfoot could have tampered with the cauldron, but Mary couldn't remember if Lily's cauldron was ever left unattended. Eventually, we stopped speaking and could only watch the door to the Hospital Wing helplessly.

When the door opened once again, we all jumped. Dumbledore gave us a warm smile. He stepped back to allow Slughorn past and then held the door open for us. "Madam Pomfrey says you may have fifteen minutes with Miss Evans. Though, she added that if you are not quiet and calm, she will remove you immediately."

We all got to out feet, and one by one, we entered the Hospital Wing. I made sure to keep my gaze fixed on the floor as I walked past Dumbledore. It was only after I heard the click of the door closing behind us that I dared breathe.

"Lily!" cried James, promptly forgetting that we were supposed to be quiet and calm.

"Shush," hissed Remus and Mary as James raced across the Hospital Wing to one of the beds furthest from the door.

"I'm so sorry, Lily!" James grabbed the metal railing on the end of his bed. "You were right. I shouldn't have jinxed Will like that. I'm sorry. I thought I'd just give everyone a laugh—but it was childish of me. I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry."

As the rest of us joined James at the end of Lily's bed, we saw her fully. I couldn't help but wince at the sight of the white bandages that had been placed on her forehead, chin, neck, and hands. Even as she managed a smile for James, I could see the shadows in her eyes and the ridged posture with which she held herself.

"It's all right, James," said Lily. "Really. I know you had good intentions. As long as you think a bit more next time, then there's no harm done."

James nodded. He tried to smile at her, but the pain in his eyes at the sight of Lily in bandages shone through.

My gaze dropped to the floor. However, I quickly lifted my head again, reminding myself that no matter how I felt, I couldn't look guilty. I was an innocent friend, genuinely worried about Lily. That's how I had to act. Of course, wanting to act that way and actually pulling it off were two different things. At first, I tried to pay attention to what Marlene's friends said, but the words of sympathy and concern transformed into a blur around me.

Was Lily all right? Of course she was all right. I had made sure of it. The burns would take a couple days to heal, but she wouldn't be left with a single scar and, in an hour or so, the pain wouldn't be worse than a light stinging sensation. I spent hours upon hours pouring over textbooks, ensuring the perfect combination. A dramatic injury but it would cause minimal pain and leave no scars.

"What did Dumbledore and Slughorn want to speak with you about?" asked Remus.

At last, the question I'd been waiting for had been asked. I tried to keep my expression tamed to nothing more than concerned curiosity as I watched Lily shift uncomfortably in the hospital bed and then say, "They asked if anyone knew what potion I'd be making tonight. I told them everyone in Potions Club and most of my friends knew I was experimenting with the Headache Relieving Potion."

"Why would they want to know that?" asked Dorcas. "Did you use the wrong ingredients?"

Lily hesitated and then said, "It's not that I used the wrong ingredients…it's that certain ingredients were switched."

"Switched?" Remus spoke slowly and cautiously. "Which ingredients were switched?"

"The willow bark paste," said Lily, her voice barely more than a whisper, "had been replaced with a mixture of mud and dog rose pollen. And the beetroot juice had been replaced with vampire's blood. When the vampire's blood met the dog rose pollen…the potion exploded."

A stillness settled around the group. I didn't dare breathe. Everyone present knew the message contained in the carefully switched planned incident. Specific ingredients had been replaced with mud and blood to make a cauldron explode on Lily Evans. It didn't take a genius to figure out who the most likely culprit was.

"Those pricks," hissed James. His voice was low and trembling with rage.

"We don't know who it was," said Lily.

"But still…" said Dorcas softly. "We can narrow it down."

"Who else would try to send a message like this?" asked James. "Who else would come up with a cruel, methodical plan? They had to switch the ingredients in advance. They had to know what potion you'd be making—"

Lily's lower lip trembled ever so slightly, and James quickly stopped himself. His hands gripped the metal bed frame so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

There were no words for me to say. I could only stand there in silence, watching the anger burning in James, the hurt Lily kept close to her chest, and the worry in Dorcas's eyes. I could only listen to Mary's words when she accused the Slytherins in Potions Club of trying to hurt Lily and nod along with Remus when he said they'd all visit Lily often.

On the other side of the bed, Peter's gaze shifted until his eyes met mine. He sent me a questioning glance.

At last, and only because I had to, I managed to find my voice. "At least you're aye right, Lily."

Helena's words echoed in my head: _I hope your plan succeeds_.

We could only wait and see.

* * *

By the next morning, word had spread throughout all of Hogwarts that Lily Evans' potion had been sabotaged, and key ingredients had been replaced with mud and blood. The finer details, like the dog rose pollen and the vampire's blood, had been lost in the retellings, but the core of the story was intact. And, of course, everyone reached the obvious conclusion: the pureblood Slytherins were responsible.

At breakfast, I watched the Slytherin table. Dovetail spoke vehemently to Rosier. As I watched her place a hand on his shoulder, I remembered that they used to date. However, Rosier didn't seem to be in the mood to listen to whatever Dovetail had to say, if his icy expression was anything to go buy. Snape's back was to me, but judging by the way he kept his head down and sat to the edge of his friend group, he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone.

I looked away from the Slytherin table. Carefully, I took some orange scones from the Hufflepuff table and wrapped them in a napkin. Scones were Lily's favorite.

Potions class that morning was canceled, because Slughorn needed to go through the ingredients cupboard and ensure everything was properly labeled. Dorcas, Mary, and I decided to take advantage of the free period to visit Lily in the Hospital Wing again. When we arrived, Lily sat upright and smiling. We all pretended not to notice the bandages that covered her face and arms as we sat on the edges of her bed. She thanked me repeatedly for smuggling in breakfast, and we chatted about how apologetic James had been last night. Trying to hide a smile, Lily admitted he'd stopped by again that morning. When the time came to leave for double Transfiguration, I promised Lily to take extra care in my note-taking for her.

We were barely more than two steps out of the Hospital Wing when I noticed a shadow out of the corner of my eye. Dorcas and Mary seemed oblivious as they speculated which Slytherin could have hurt Lily. I walked a little slower, so that I dropped back behind them. With a flick of my wand, in little more than a breath, I whispered, " _Diffindo_."

The edge of my bag tore open, and I made sure to let out a yelp of surprise as a couple textbooks and a few rolls of parchment paper fell onto the stone floor. The yelp turned real when the black baseball cap slipped out as well. I clutched the hole at the bottom of the bookbag to stop anything else important from falling out. I dropped to my knees, desperate to grab the transfigured diadem.

Dorcas and Mary looked over their shoulders at the mess around me. I froze for a second, my hand outstretched towards the baseball cap. My heart was pounded, and I could barely hear my own thoughts. The diadem. They could see the diadem. It was right there in front of them. Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem. A horcrux. Part of Voldemort's soul.

"What happened?" asked Dorcas as she knelt to help me pick up a textbook.

"Bag caught on my watch." I snatched up the baseball cap and shoved it back into the bookbag. "You should go on ahead. Tell Professor McGonagall I'll be a few minutes late."

"It'll be faster if we help," said Dorcas.

"You need to take good notes for Lily," I said with a smile.

At my urging, a hesitant Dorcas and Mary went on ahead. I pointed my wand at the bottom of my bag and said, " _Reparo_." Immediately the fabric mended itself and the enchanted bag returned to normal. Taking my sweet time, I started placing my scattered belongings back into the bookbag.

"McKinnon."

Even at the sound of the familiar, nasally voice, I didn't stop what I was doing. I kept my head down and only said, coldly, "Snape."

"You don't think I did it?" asked Snape. His voice tight with anger and indignation.

"I don't know what to believe." I dropped the last piece of parchment into the bookbag and got to my feet. I turned to look at the pale, pimpled face of Severus Snape. Rage simmered behind his dark eyes, though it didn't seem his feelings were directed at me.

"I would never hurt Lily," said Snape. "Never. You have to believe that."

I kept my gaze cool as I said, "You've called her _that_ word before."

Snape winced. "And never again. It was a mistake. Lily's different. I told you. I would never hurt her."

"And what about your so-called _friends_?" I let loathing slip into my voice. "Do they think Lily's _different_ too?"

To that, Snape had no answer. He knew as well as I did that, to them, Lily was no different from any other muggleborn.

I scoffed and started to turn away.

"Wait."

A single desperate word stopped me mid-step.

I had to bite down on the insides of my cheeks to stop myself from smiling. I glanced back at the Hospital Wing door before I turned to face Snape once again. "What is it?"

The words didn't come so easily to Snape. "Rosier promised…He promised. And yet…Lily…" Snape looked in the direction of the Hospital Wing. "Why did it have to be her? Rosier promised he wouldn't let them. But they…they don't get that Lily's different." His gaze lifted to mine. "You wanted to help me, right? You'd help me be friends with Lily again? Help me…please."

I stared at him for a long moment, letting his words sink in for both of us. Then, I said, "That was before Lily ended up in the Hospital Wing because of your friends."

I took a step backwards, preparing to go, when Snape said, "I want to catch them too. The person who did this. My _friend_." He spat the word.

Sorry, Lily. I couldn't stop my gaze from straying to Hospital Wing door once again. Sorry, Lily. I really did choose the ingredients so her injuries would be dramatic but not permanent or painful. I really didn't want to hurt her. I only needed to scare Snape.

"I believe you," I said at last. "And I'll help you. I'll help you catch the culprit _and_ I'll help you and Lily be friends again."

Relief flashed across Snape's face.

Sorry, Lily. A foot in the door. That was all I needed. So that I could get Snape on my side.

"We'll talk later," I said. "Tomorrow evening. Now, I've got to go. I'm running late for Transfiguration."

And with that, I turned around and left Snape standing alone outside the Hospital Wing.

 _Fair is fair, Snape_ , I thought with a cold smile. _I help you now. You pay me back later._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think will happen: Has she made progress with Helena? Is Snape really on her side? Will Rosier figure her out? Will she get caught?
> 
> Please leave a comment!


	12. Lily Evans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan on giving each of the secondary characters their own third-person POV chapter. This is the first one. Hopefully y'all enjoy it!

**PART ONE: IN VITAM**

* * *

**Chapter XII: Lily Evans**

Lily Evans bore her injuries with a smile. The pain of the burns had reduced to little more than a light stinging a few hours after the incident in Potions Club. The marks, however, remained a couple days longer despite Madam Pomfrey's careful care.

Dumbledore had cast warding spells on the Hospital Wing, and Madam Pomfrey had confined Lily to bed for two days. Lily uttered not a word of protest. She smiled and assured Slughorn that she wasn't in pain.

On the day after the incident, Lily's friends had been in and out of the Hospital Wing. First, her closest friends had stopped by, Marlene smuggling in some scones for her. Then, during lunch, the Marauders had come. Sirius had apologized profusely for his absence the night before, and James had done his best Slughorn imitation in effort to cheer her up. After that, a couple of Lily's Ravenclaw friends had checked in on her. Emmeline Vance had sworn she'd curse the Slytherin who did this, while Caradoc Dearborn had brought eclairs from the kitchens. Persephone Rowle had come bearing Charms notes and promising to take over Lily’s Head Girl patrol shifts. Lily met them all with her best smile, repeating again and again that she would be all right, no permanent harm had been done.

There were no other long-term patients in the Hospital Wing. A sixth-year Hufflepuff came to get treated after a bad run-in with the Venomous Tentacula in Herbology class, and a fifth-year Slytherin received some Pepperup Potion to help him through a bad cold.

Madam Pomfrey had limited visits to fifteen minutes, complaining that the Hospital Wing would become a student lounge. So once her friends had used up their minutes, Lily had spent the evening alone with only her textbooks for company.

Early Tuesday morning, Sirius announced his arrival by dropping a beautifully wrapped box of Honeydukes' chocolates onto Lily's lap.

"Do I even wanted to ask how you got this?" asked Lily as she tried to stealthily peer around Sirius to see if anyone else had come with him.

"Probably not," said Sirius. "And he's not here."

Lily blushed, embarrassed to have been caught looking for James. She stopped craning her neck and instead tried to look unconcerned, as if it didn't matter to her who came to visit.

"Don't know why you'd care about him when you have my marvelous self here." Sirius settled into the chair next to Lily's bed and picked up the box of chocolates. "He's on patrol with Remus, but he'll probably stop by later after classes."

"Where's Peter?" asked Lily, still trying to maintain her façade of nonchalance.

"Doing Charms homework with Marlene."

Lily watched as Sirius opened the box, took one chocolate for himself, and then offered one to her.

"Didn't you bring that for me?" asked Lily as she selected a delicious-looking piece of dark chocolate. When she took a bite, the center was gooey blueberry.

Sirius grinned. "I bought it for both of us. You'd be much more willing to share if you knew what I had to go through to get it—"

"Don't tell me. I don't want to have to put you in detention."

Sprawled out in the wooden chair, Sirius lazily selected another chocolate from the box. Lily hid a smile as she recalled the first year boy with a posh accent and perfect posture. Things had changed so much since then.

Last year, when the boys had finally started realizing the world didn't revolve around them, Lily and Sirius had ended up partners in Charms. After five years of Lily's sharp critiques and Sirius's sarcastic comments, they discovered that they actually got along rather well. It turned out they had similar senses of humor and the same taste in muggle music. Then one night, when James had been out with Joanna Stebbins, Lily and Sirius had shared a bottle of firewhiskey and swapped stories of their siblings. Their friendship had been sealed ever since.

It had been Sirius and Marlene who insisted to Lily that James wasn't bad, that she shouldn't give up on being friends with him, that he wasn't as much of a toerag as he used to be.

After that, Lily had always thought Sirius and Marlene suited one another perfectly. The warm, open Marlene balanced the sarcastic, jaded Sirius. And, Lily had thought this privately after hearing about the house of Black, Sirius needed someone who loved him unconditionally.

Sirius saw the piece of parchment on the bedside table. He didn't read it, but he must have caught sight of the names at the bottom because he said, "Letter from your parents?"

"Yes. It arrived this morning."

"Are you going to tell them what happened?"

"Of course not. That would only worry them." Lily hesitated, wondering how much she could say to Sirius. Lily took another chocolate from the box. As she did so, she spoke lightly, despite her feelings being anything but. "My sister is engaged now."

Sirius pulled a face. He knew Lily hated to hear her sister spoken badly of, so he only said, "No. You never told me she was dating someone."

"I didn't know," admitted Lily

Sirius grimaced. "Have you told your friends?"

Lily shook her head. She knew they would be sympathetic, willing to listen and comfort. But they wouldn't understand. Dorcas and Marlene generally got along with their siblings, while Mary was an only child. Briefly, she'd thought about telling James, but something held her back. It was embarrassing, in a way, to admit the full extent of how much her sister disliked her.

"The bloke's called Vernon Dursley," said Lily. She glanced at the letter, recalling her mum's words of forced politeness. "My parents don't think much of him."

"Muggle?"

"Yes." Lily let out a small laugh. "As if Petunia would marry a wizard. Apparently, he's a junior executive at the office she works at in London."

She could feel Sirius watching her. He had always been good at reading people, at knowing what would set them off. Most of the time, he used his talents to annoy people on purpose. But other times, the times when Lily truly admired him, he could diffuse person's emotions with ease. Lily still remembered, in sixth year, when Mary had been on the verge of panic after hearing of a Death Eater attack on the Ministry. Sirius had sat with her, using his natural charm and careful honesty to calm her.

"We can't force people to think the way we want them to," said Sirius at last. "Believe me, I've tried. Maybe Petunia will come around one day, and you'll get along like you used to. But I wouldn't hang onto that hope. Better to focus on the things you do have—Dorcas, Mary, Marlene, James." He grinned. "And me, of course. The best of all."

"Of course," said Lily with a smile.

His words weren't comforting, but she hadn't expected them to be. She appreciated the honesty, the truth she needed to face. Still, letting go of people had never been easy for Lily. How long had it taken her to end her friendship with Severus? Too long.

"Regulus will probably join the Death Eaters."

Sirius spoke so suddenly that Lily's head jerked up, causing the injury on her neck to sting.

"Why do you say that?" she asked, ignoring the pain.

"Do you see the people he hangs out with?" asked Sirius with a bitter laugh. "Dovetail, Avery, Rosier, Wilkes." He glanced at Lily. "Snape."

Lily winced. She wanted to defend her childhood friend, wanted to insist that they didn't _know_ that everyone in that group would become a Death Eater. But she knew Sirius would see right through that self-delusion.

"Sometimes," said Sirius, "hanging onto hope will only end in disappointment."

They fell into silence. Lily found herself remembering her childhood, playing in the backyard with her sister. Petunia had smiled and laughed in a way she hadn't in years. Then, she remembered leaning over the fence, talking to Severus. His eyes had glowed as he'd told her about the wonders of magic. No one would dare bully a wizard, he'd told her. The idea seemed childish now.

"Chocolate?" Sirius held out the box to her.

"Thanks." Lily selected another dark chocolate one and then added, half-joking, "I'm still mad at you, by the way."

"For snogging my girlfriend in the corridor?" asked Sirius incredulously.

"For jinxing Will Spinnet with James," said Lily. "But now that you mention it, I'm mad at you for that too."

"You already took ten points from Gryffindor. I'll go straight to the broom closet next time."

"Not about that. I don't care about house points." Lily hot him a meaningful look. He knew why she was mad.

Sure enough, Sirius released a long sigh. "It's not like I ever wanted to hurt Marlene. She's a great girl, honestly. She's just…too good, you know, for me." He carefully selected another chocolate from the box before adding, "Besides, she doesn't fancy me anymore."

"How do you know that?"

"It's obvious," said Sirius with a laugh. "If anything, I'd say she dislikes me now." He clutched a hand to his chest and cried, "Oh woe, how quickly unrequited love can turn to hate."

Lily frowned. She hadn't believed it when Marlene had announced herself over Sirius Black. There hadn't been any warning. Could people move on from someone they'd fancied since third year that easily? Besides, Lily comforted herself, Marlene had admitted to feeling upset after seeing Sirius and his new girlfriend. Nothing had changed. Marlene still fancied Sirius.

Sirius must have read something in Lily's expression because he said, "She really is over me. I'm not blind, Lily. I figured it out on my own that she fancied me. I did _not_ need the obnoxious hints James kept dropping. And now, I don't need her or anyone else to break that news that she's gotten over me."

"But she hasn't," said Lily softly. "She's fancied you ever since third year."

"What does that have to do with it?" asked Sirius.

Lily didn't know. She couldn't put it into words, but some part of her felt that Marlene had to keep liking Sirius. It was expected, normal, familiar. Marlene fancied Sirius, James fancied Lily. That was a constant, how things had always been. If Marlene changed…

"You'll like my new girlfriend, Lily." A wide grin spread across Sirius's face. "Louisa's nice and funny—" He broke off upon seeing Lily's stony expression.

"Sorry." Lily wanted to rub the exhaustion from her eyes, but she remembered the bandages on her hands and stopped herself. "She sounds lovely, Sirius, really. I just worry about Marlene."

"Ask her," said Sirius. "Rather than assume what she wants, why don't you ask?"

His gaze flickered over the Hospital Wing office. Lily saw Madam Pomfrey, half out the door, making a shooing motion with her hands. Sirius's fifteen minutes were up.

"Get better," said Sirius as he rose from the chair. "The sooner you're released, the sooner James will stop sulking."

Lily smiled. "Thanks. And I'll talk with Marlene."

Sirius grinned. "Good. I'll introduce you to Louisa when you're out of here."

With a wave to Madam Pomfrey, Sirius left Lily alone with her thoughts.

Lily fought back a sigh as she leaned back against her pillow. She didn't want to be here, in the Hospital Wing, being fussed over by her friends. Every time they came to visit, she could see the pity and concern in their eyes as they saw the bandages on her face, neck, and hands. Lily found herself slapping on a smile whenever they came.

Somewhere, at the edges of her mind, Lily could feel a shadow starting to grow. But she refused to acknowledge it. Better to ignore the fear, the horror. Better to push it away and keep pretending she was all right.

She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't make her friends worry. Everything would be fine.

After lunch, Mary and Marlene came to visit. They were an odd pair standing side by side. Marlene towered over the petite Mary. Mary's movements were light and small, while Marlene carried herself with a newfound, quiet confidence.

Lily beamed at them both. "Please tell me you didn't bring me more scones. Sirius already smuggled me chocolates. I swear you lot are trying to fatten me up while I'm here."

Mary laughed. "Sirius told us he was bringing Honeydukes' chocolates. You'll never guess what he did to get them—"

"I don't want to know," said Lily quickly.

After placing a stack of class notes on the bedside table, Marlene settled in the wooden chair. Her dark eyes scanned the Hospital Wing before her attention shifted back to Lily.

"Dorcas is out walking the grounds with Jenn," said Mary. "It's too cold out to go look for them."

"It's fine. Madam Pomfrey will kick you out if there's too many visitors."

"There's no one else here to bother," observed Marlene, looking around at the rows of empty beds.

"Madam Pomfrey just wants Lily to get proper rest," said Mary.

"At least I'm a better patient than James," said Lily. She still remembered visiting him in the Hospital Wing last year after he suffered a Quidditch injury. He had complained constantly and insisted he was fit to leave.

Mary glanced at Marlene, and Marlene's left eyebrow quirked up. Then, they both looked back at Lily.

"James was frantic when he heard you were in the Hospital Wing," said Mary.

At this, Lily struggled to keep back a smile. Vivid in her memory was James's face as he had rushed to her bedside and apologized profusely for jinxing Will Spinnet. Seeing James, Lily had felt the worry and fear fade away. The shadow pushed to the back of her mind. In that moment, inexplicably, she'd felt safe.

The door to the Hospital Wing office opened.

Lily started to look around, but she stopped when she noticed Marlene's reaction. At the sudden noise, Marlene had jumped, her hands flying to the edges of her chair. When she saw that it was just Madam Pomfrey, Marlene slowly relaxed.

"Good afternoon." Madam Pomfrey saw Mary sitting beside Lily's bed and didn't remind them of the fifteen-minute restriction. Likely because she was old school friends with Mary's mum.

"Hello," called out Mary.

Marlene nodded her head in mute greeting.

Lily frowned. For the past year, Marlene had been jumpy and nervous. It'd gotten even worse when she returned from the summer holidays. As if she was always on guard, Marlene constantly checked her surroundings and twitched at loud noises. It almost reminded Lily of Sirius. The way he always watched people, judging their reactions and seeing what set them off.

Marlene hadn't always been that way. She used to be cheerful and carefree. It broke Lily's heart to see how the war had changed her friend. To see Marlene grow more and more serious until there was only a faint reminder of the girl she used to be.

Who else would the war change, Lily wondered. Would Dorcas and Mary? Would James? Would she?

Madam Pomfrey called Mary over to help her something. Mary sent an apologetic smile in Lily's direction before heading to the office.

Lily found herself suddenly left alone with Marlene. Sirius's words echoed in her memory: _Rather than assume what she wants, why don't you ask?_ Lily hadn't expected the opportunity to come around so quickly. Still, Lily didn't find it easy to voice aloud. After all, didn't she have the answer? Marlene had been upset when she saw Sirius and Louisa in the corridor. She'd even admitted the scene had bothered her. There was no need to bring it up. But Lily had promised him that she'd ask.

"I've been wondering." Lily struggled to find the right words. "You said you were over Sirius, but I know his snogging Louisa Pickering in the corridor Monday bothered you. So, I wondered, do you still fancy him?"

At first, Marlene stared at Lily with a blank expression. However, as Lily spoke, understanding flashed through Marlene's eyes, followed by something indecipherable. Then, Marlene let out a long sigh. "I don't fancy him anymore."

Panic welled in Lily's chest, though she couldn't put into words why it was so important that Marlene continue to fancy Sirius. Especially when he'd said outright that he wouldn't fall for Marlene. Stumbling over her words, Lily found herself saying, "B-but you've liked him since third year."

Marlene's dark eyes surveyed Lily before she said, "I don't think it's as simple as getting over him or not. I fancied him for a long time. Something like that doesn't vanish into nothing. I doubt I'll ever be able to regard him the same way I do Remus and Peter. But I don't fancy him. Not any more. I know now he's not right for me."

Lily frowned. The only person she'd ever dated was Caradoc Dearborn, and they'd had transitioned easily to friends after ending things. There were no lingering or complicated feelings.

"Do you dislike him?" asked Lily, remembering Sirius's words.

"No," said Marlene quickly. "It's just a complicated feeling."

Relief washed over Lily. She didn't know what she'd do if Marlene held a grudge. She didn't want her friends to fight.

Marlene's expression remained unreadable as she scanned Lily's face. When their eyes met, she quickly looked away. Then, she said, "Just because I've gotten over the person I've fancied since third year, it doesn't mean everything will suddenly change."

"I-I know that." Even as she said the words, Lily realized that maybe, somewhere deep inside, she hadn't. She'd been clinging on to the past, to her childhood, to her life at Hogwarts.

"Somethings change." Marlene's husky tones delivered the words with calm certainty. "Somethings do not." She paused and then said, almost to herself, "And somethings we have to change ourselves."

Marlene's gaze landed on the bandages, and then she turned away.

The action was odd. Lily didn't understand why Marlene had a hard time looking her in the eye. It was almost as if she felt guilty. But why would Marlene feel guilty? It wasn't as though she had caused the potion to explode.

Lily's heart skipped a beat. Or did she?

Marlene had been acting off for a year now. Remus worried she might be under the Imperious Curse. Could Marlene have swapped the ingredients?

Even as the thought formed in Lily's mind, it was swiftly dismissed. The war had made her paranoid. She had even doubted _Marlene_. Marlene, who had been her friend since first year. Marlene, who saw the good in everyone and loved determinedly. Marlene, who had rushed to the Hospital Wing to see if she was all right. What would James say? _If you can't trust your friends, who can you trust?_

Lily would have laughed at her own paranoia if she hadn't found herself gripped by a sudden panic. Her hands shook slightly as the horrible, fighting truth finally started to reach her: Someone had purposefully hurt her.

"I need to go," said Marlene, rising form her seat. "Divination starts soon."

"Yeah." Lily tried to smile but couldn't find the strength.

"Get well soon."

Marlene spared one last glance for Lily before heading to the exit. Despite her almost frantic departure, Marlene moved with calm, unhurried steps.

The shadow that lurked at the edges of Lily's mind had started to grow. The fear, the panic, the frightening truth. As she watched Marlene close the doors of the Hospital Wing behind her, what had happened to her finally came crashing down around Lily.

Someone had purposefully hurt her.

Someone hated her, and what her parents were, so much that they had caused her potion to explode. They had snuck into the ingredients cupboard, knowing which potion she would make. It had taken planning and preparation.

Who could hate her that much?

Lily stared down at the bandages on the backs of her hands. She felt the stinging pain and remembered the red blisters on her skin.

What had she done to them? Besides being born to muggle parents, what had she done to deserve this? Or was that all it took? She was muggleborn, something she had no control over, and that was all the reason they needed.

Lily barely noticed when Mary stopped by after helping Madam Pomfrey. She nodded noncommittally when Mary spoke and was relieved when Mary finally left.

The world seemed to have fallen out of place, and Lily couldn't put the pieces back in the right order. She couldn't understand the people who had done this to her. She couldn't comprehend such hate.

But that very same hate had fueled seven years of open war. A war that had haunted the magical world from the moment Lily had entered Hogwarts. Her first year had been filled with news of muggles being hunted for sport. By her second year, the Death Eaters had started killing muggleborns. She'd seen article upon article announcing that people just like her had been murdered.

She couldn't imagine life outside Hogwarts' walls. Was there a place for her in this world? Maybe things would have been better if she'd never received that letter from Hogwarts. She would still get along with Petunia. She wouldn't be in this world where so many people wanted nothing more than to see her dead.

Lily didn't know how much time passed as she mulled over these dark thoughts. At some point, Madam Pomfrey left for dinner. Lily barely heard her as she told Lily what to do in case of emergency. Lily could only stare blankly at the empty beds of the Hospital Wing. The shadow had finally dug its claws into her.

Was this what Marlene had gone through? Was this what had changed her so much? Did she feel this despair and realize that the things she'd loved before no longer mattered?

Wrapped in her fear, Lily didn't notice the door to the Hospital Wing open or see the black-haired boy make his way across the room. It wasn't until he stood beside the bed that Lily realized that James Potter had come to visit her.

Lily didn't know what he saw in her eyes, but James started with alarm. "What happened? Who hurt you? What can I do? What do you need?"

"Sorry." Lily's hands flew up to her face. She winced when her fingers brushed against the bandages. "Am I crying?"

"No," said James even as he grabbed some tissues from the bedside table. He sat down in the chair and leaned forward. Delicately, careful to avoid her injuries, he dabbed at the corners of her eyes. His voice was soft, pleading almost, as he asked, "Lily, what happened?"

"I just…" Lily didn't want James to see her like this. Never mind that he had known her since she was eleven and seen her throughout puberty. She didn't want him to see her crying, giving in to despair. She wanted to stay that headstrong girl that he'd declared himself in love with so many times before. And yet, even as she wanted to hide, she also wanted him there. His mere presence was enough to ground her even as the world came apart at the edges.

"It's all right," said James when he'd finished wiping the tears from her eyes. "Take your time. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

From somewhere, Lily summoned up a thin smile. She largely felt embarrassed for letting him see her like that.

"Sorry," she said again.

"There's nothing to apologize for," said James. "You don't have to apologize for being upset. The only person who should apologize is the one who—" He broke off.

"The one who switched my potions ingredients for mud and blood," said Lily bluntly. It made her feel better to say it aloud, to admit what had happened.

James hands trembled with anger, but he tried to keep his feelings contained. For her sake, Lily realized. She watched as he took a couple deep breath, and slowly the tension in his shoulders faded. He managed a weak smile for her. "You're incredible, Lily."

She wanted to laugh aloud. She didn't feel incredible. She felt small and scared.

"You are," insisted James. "I know you keep trying to smile for the rest of us. You're always like that. Worrying about other people before yourself. That's incredible."

Lily stared into those hazel eyes that she'd grown so familiar with over the past year.

James gave a little cough, the tips of his ears turning red beneath his messy hair. "I had patrol this morning with Remus instead, you know. He's not nearly as fun as you. He doesn't laugh at my jokes."

"I only laugh at your terrible jokes to make you feel better," said Lily.

"Sirius would tell you not to bother. It'll only inflate my ego."

"Your ego can't get any more inflated."

"Very true."

"Sirius stopped by earlier," said Lily. "He brought me Honeydukes' chocolate."

"Oh yeah." James glanced at the box. "He snuck into Hogsmeade to get those for you. Had to bribe a fifth-year prefect to cover for him, and almost got caught by Peeves on the way back."

Lily groaned. "I didn't want to know. I mean, how could he? Sneaking into Hogsmeade like that. Visits are banned for a reason. What if something had happened to him? Getting me chocolates isn't more important than his safety."

"I guess I wasn't supposed to tell you," said James with a grin.

"I was eating them in happy ignorance," said Lily with a forlorn look at the box. She didn't dare ask for details on _how_ Sirius had snuck into Hogsmeade.

"Keep eating them. If everyone finds out I told you, I'll get an earful." James shuddered at the thought. "Sirius just wants you to get better soon. Everyone does."

Lily found herself unconsciously smiling. Talking with James was so comfortable, so easy. But at the same time, it felt so fragile. The shadow of fear reminded her of all the newspapers articles she'd read of wizards found dead in their homes, the dark mark cast into the night sky.

The panic had started to return, seeping into Lily's thoughts. Only, this time, it wasn't herself that Lily felt frightened for. It was James. Bold James who stood against the Slytherins whenever they bullied muggleborn students. There was no way he'd remain silent after graduating Hogwarts. He would fight. James had always been a fighter. Lily didn't know what she'd do if one day she opened the paper to see his name among the dead.

Without realizing it, she found herself grasping for James's hand. He fingers closed around his, gripping tightly, as if he would disappear unless bound to her.

"I don't want to lose you," she whispered.

James adjusted his hand so that her hold was more comfortable. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

A bittersweet feeling filled Lily's chest. "You can't promise that."

"I can't," he admitted. Then, in a smaller voice, he added, "I don't want to lose you either."

When had it started? When exactly did James Potter become so important to her? She could still remember first year when he had been the bane of her existence. She could remember threatening to jinx him after he picked on Severus. She could remember James declaring his love for her in the corridors. She could remember shutting him down every time he asked her to Hogsmeade. She could remember calling him arrogant, pigheaded, and a bully.

When had that changed? When had he stopped being the bane of her existence? Had it been when she'd seen him kissing Joanna Stebbins? Had it been when he'd taken charge during the raid on Hogsmeade? Had it been when she realized her feelings for Caradoc Dearborn were nothing more than friendship? Perhaps there hadn't been a single, defining moment that caused her feelings to change. It had been a process. Slow and gradual.

Lily found that she was glad that she had received her Hogwarts letter, even if it meant entering this world torn apart by war. If she hadn't come to Hogwarts, she'd be an ignorant muggle, not understanding why so many people had died. She wouldn't have the chance to fight. If she hadn't come to Hogwarts, she wouldn't have met her friends. Dorcas, Mary, Marlene, Sirius, Remus, Peter. They'd be strangers to her. If she hadn't come to Hogwarts, she'd never have met James Potter.

Lily gave James's hand a squeeze, reminding herself that he was still there.

"I still fancy you."

Her heart thundered in her chest. Lily couldn't form a coherent thought, let alone find words to respond.

"I—" James stopped himself and ran a hand through his already untidy hair. "I don't want to tell you like this. Now. I mean, you're in the Hospital Wing. You've been through a lot these last couple days. I don't want to take advantage—"

Lily grabbed the collar of his shirt and kissed him.

James was probably right. This was neither the time nor place. Her face was covered in bandaged But, right then, she didn't care. The world had shattered around her and the pieces weren't fitting back together as they ought. James, with his broad shoulders, his warm eyes, his fierce determination, his endless loyalty, his gentle kisses, James was the only thing that anchored her.

Only when his glasses pressed against one of her bandages did Lily remember herself. Her head buzzing, Lily released her grip on James's shirt and ended the kiss.

James stared at her, his face blank. He blinked. Slowly, he pulled himself together enough to ask, "Does this mean you fancy me too?"

Lily let out a small laugh. "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely sure?"

Lily lifted up their still clasped hands for him to see. "Yes, James, I'm absolutely sure. I've been sure for awhile. I just didn't know how to say it."

A smile flickered across James's face, at first hesitant and then slowly growing. Then, he beamed at her. Something glinted in his hazel eyes and he said, "I mean, of course. Who could resist me?"

Lily let out a snort of laughter. "You know what? I'm starting to reconsider…"

"I take it back," said James quickly. "I was joking. Honestly, I can't believe it. After sixth year, I thought you'd never feel the same."

Lily gave his hand another squeeze. He glanced down at their intertwined fingers. When he looked up at her, he wore a brilliant smile.

Suddenly, Lily couldn't meet his gaze. Her face burned as she looked at their hands, the bed sheets, the chocolate box—anywhere but at James. She felt self-conscious of the fact that bandages covered her face and she had blisters on her skin.

James suddenly let out a long sigh. "Sirius is going to be insufferable when he hears we're dating."

Lily's heart jumped. Dating. They were dating. With a shaky laugh, she said, "The endless I-told-you-so's from Mary and Dorcas will drive me barmy."

"I wouldn't be surprised if Remus and Sirius have a bet," muttered James. He glanced at Lily, a mischievous spark in his eyes. "We could just not tell them. At least until Sirius loses his bet."

Lily laughed. James opened her arms, and she found herself sinking into his embrace.

The fear, the panic, the desperate worry hadn't left. It lingered at the edge of her mind, reminding her of what waited outside of Hogwarts. But in that moment, wrapped in James's arms, Lily allowed herself to feel happy and safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we all knew that was coming. Sorry if it's disappointing; romance is not my strong suit. 
> 
> I want to have more Sirius, Remus, and Peter in the story, and they will have their own arcs later on. We'll get there...one day.
> 
> Please leave a comment, and thank you for reading!


	13. Three of Wands Reversed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people have asked me if I knew a lot tarot prior to writing this. I did not. Beyond a basic knowledge of the most famous cards and a couple drunk card readings by my ex-roommate, I knew very little about tarot. I did a lot of research to write this fic. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**PART ONE: IN VITAM**

* * *

**Chapter XIII: Three of Wands Reversed**

Switching the potions ingredients? Easy. Acting surprised when a potion exploded on Lily? Easy. Persuading Snape to distrust his friends and work with me to find the culprit? Easy. All of it was easy compared to what I had to do next: convince Evan Rosier that I was innocent.

My steps dragged on my way up to the North Tower that Tuesday. I was plagued by visions of Rosier taking one look at me and announcing to the world that I had messed with Lily's potion. Of course, logically, I knew Rosier wouldn't expose me. We were bound by mutually assured destruction. The bigger concern was that Rosier would realize my main goal. If he knew that I wanted to turn Snape against him, well, I could only imagine what kind of tricks Rosier would have up the sleeves of his robe.

When I entered the Divination classroom, Rosier's eyes lifted to mine. To my relief, no hint of suspicion resided in his stare.

He waited until I was seated before asking, "How's Evans doing?"

I tried to have the right amount of resentment in my tone. "Why do you care?"

Rosier's gaze swept over my face. No doubt scrutinizing the narrowing of my brows and tightness in my jaw. I had practiced my expression in the mirrors of the Room of Requirement last night.

Finally, he said, "You don't think I had anything to do with it."

It wasn't a question. Still, I made sure to keep my voice low, aware that the two Ravenclaws a table over watched us with curiosity. Stebbins was almost falling out of her chair as she strained to hear our conversation. "No, not you. But the people in your house, the people you call _friends_."

Something akin to anger flashed across Rosier's face, but it disappeared as soon as it came. "They should not have done that."

"Who was it?" I asked. "Who did this?"

There was a grim set to Rosier's mouth. His eyes swept across the violet tablecloth and over the deck of hand-painted cards that lay between us. "I have my suspicions." Then, he stared at me.

I fucked up.

I knew it as soon as it happened. I could feel the muscles in my face twitch, despite my best efforts to keep my expression controlled. But that was all it took. A single moment of weakness, and all my acting had been for nothing.

"What do you know?" asked Rosier. His voice suddenly sharp.

"What?" Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I could salvage this. I had to believe I could. "What are you talking about?"

"Marlene." He actually leaned forward, as if being closer would make my expressions easier to read.

I instinctively scooted back in my seat. Of course, running away like that was a sure sign of guilt. Still, I tried to sound angry as I hissed, "Don't try to protect your friends. Everyone knows they're the ones who hurt Lily. Or do you want me to believe they didn't tell you their plans?"

"You…" Slowly, understanding formed in Rosier's eyes. He opened his mouth, as if searching for the right words. Finally, he managed a disbelieving, "You didn't, Marlene."

"Didn't what?" I asked.

But before Rosier couldn't answer, Professor Vablatsky tapped her wand on the edge of her desk and called for the start of class. She stood before the mahogany desk, her elegant maroon robes and severe features making her look like royalty as she began the lecture. "Today, we will focus on the Seven Card Horseshoe Spread. This is one of the more popular layouts among Seers, though it is not as detailed as the Celtic Cross layout or the Romany Spread."

I couldn't concentrate on a word Vablatsky said. Every fiber of my being focused on Rosier. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him shift position in his chair, lean his elbows on the table, remove them, write a couple sentences in his notebook before abandoning his quill, and then send several curious glances my way throughout the rest lecture.

"The fourth position," said Vablatsky, "and the center of the spread represents the querent. The querent, and their attitude towards the situation addressed, is a key component of the reading. Now, some Seers, like Imago, recommend reading this center card first. Other Seers believe that the cards should be read in order of their positions. Feel free to experiment with both methods and choose the one that suits you best."

Rosier knew. He knew that I'd been the one to switch Lily's potions ingredients. Something in my face had given it away, and now he had yet another thing to blackmail me with.

I'd expected this, of course. I'd never really imagined that I could deceive Rosier for long. The more important truth, the thing I desperately needed to keep hidden, was _why_ I'd messed with Lily's cauldron. Rosier couldn't find out about Snape.

But how could I stop Rosier? I couldn't keep boldly denying the accusations. Rosier trusted what he saw with his own eyes far more than anything I said. I probably couldn't stop him from figuring it out entirely, but perhaps I could slow him down. Keep him wondering why I did it…at least until I'd managed to sway Snape's opinion on his future Death Eater friends.

Vablatsky's voice cut through my thoughts. "You may begin practicing with your partner."

My smile came out more of a grimace as I forced myself to face Rosier.

He didn't look at me at first, as he flipped through the pages of his textbook to the chapter on the Seven Card Horseshoe Spread. When he finally met my gaze, his expression was calm and unreadable. "Do you want to read for me first?"

"Sure." No doubt he had planned some kind of test for me.

Rosier didn't pick up the deck right away. He only tapped the top on the cards with his index finger and said, "I'm curious. Why would Marlene McKinnon switch Lily Evans's potion ingredients?"

My gaze dropped down to the deck. He was going to ask _that_ to the tarot cards? Really? When I found my voice, all I could say was: "Isn't this supposed to be about you?"

"I'm asking for you. Read it as if you're the querent."

I was pretty sure tarot readings weren't supposed to be done that way. However, simply refusing would just make him more suspicious. Better to play offensive. Trying to keep my eyes narrowed in anger, I snapped, "It wasn't me, you dobber. Why don't you ask the cards what those friends of yours are up to instead? Perhaps then you can figure out why they'd hurt Lily without telling you."

Rosier's left eyebrow quirked upward. He didn't say another word, however. He shuffled the hand-painted deck, taking his time before placing them back on the smooth tablecloth.

I flipped up the first card, then the second, the third. I moved from left to right, placing all seven cards in a V-shape with the open end facing Rosier.

I bit the insides of my cheeks, reminding myself that this reading was about Rosier and his friends. I focused on the memory of Snape sharing whispers with Dovetail and Avery in the corridor. They were the guilty party. I had to believe that if I wanted any hope of deceiving Rosier. His friends had injured Lily without telling him, and now the cards would speak to that situation.

My fingers lowered to tap the card on my far left. The painted surface depicted three figures standing beneath three golden circles. "The first position represents the past. The Three of Pentacles upright stands for collaboration, shared goals, and the pooling of energies." I smirked across the table at Rosier. "Your friendship with your housemates influences the current situation and how you feel about it. Perhaps something in that friendship is the reason they chose not to tell you about switching ingredients."

"I'm asking for you," said Rosier. He offered me a patient smile, though something angry and frustrated lurked in his dark eyes. "I want to know why you would want to send Lily Evans to the Hospital Wing and frame my friends. According to this card, some agreement or collaboration in your past brought about Evans's unfortunate incident."

He glanced to his right, making sure Vablatsky was out of earshot. Then, he slid his wand out of the pocket of his robes. He didn't utter a word as he gave the wand a subtle flick. A faint buzzing filled the air. Imperceptible if I hadn't known Rosier had cast the muffling spell.

Finally, Rosier looked me in the eyes and asked, "Did the person who hired you to take the place of McKinnon put you up to this?"

I did my best to give a derisive snort. "All that fanfare just to ask _that_? I don't work for anyone, and I had nothing to do with this. Stop trying to pin your friends' actions on me."

"I thought it was one of them too," admitted Rosier calmly. "Until your eyebrows arched outwards when I mentioned my suspicions, and you kept looking down and to the side."

"Did you ever stop to consider that you could be reading my expressions wrong?"

"Those are the expressions of shame or guilt."

I wanted to slam my head on the table and scream. How could I win against someone like that? Someone who could tell from the twitch of the mouth or the blink of an eye whether I was lying or not. What could I do? How could I talk my way out of this?

The usual knowing smirk danced across Rosier's face as my hand moved to the second card in the Horseshoe spread. In swirling colors of green and blue, the card held the image of a man on top of a tower. The man held two wands, one in each hand, as he looked out over a beautiful scenery of mountains and lakes.

"The second position speaks to the situation at present. The Two of Wands upright indicates planning and progression. There is a goal in mind and now you have begun moving forward with concrete steps." I wanted to lie. I wanted to make up some fake meaning for the cards. But, of course, Rosier knew the tarot deck just as well as I did.

Sure enough, Rosier said, "There was an agreement or collaboration made between you and your employer. Switching the ingredients is a step taken to achieve the end goal of that collaboration?"

I rolled my eyes. "If that was true, you'd be an even greater Seer than Professor Vablatsky. This reading is about you. So, then steps are being taken by your friends to achieve some goal. They didn't just want to harm Lily. There's some bigger goal they're aiming for."

Rosier didn't respond right away. His dark eyes surveyed me carefully, taking in every detail of my face. Then, he leaned back in his chair and smiled. "I think the cards are closer to your truth than you'd like, _Marlene_."

"Just keep trying to say your friends aren't plotting something, _Rosier_ ," I snapped.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Vablatsky making her way over to our table. Rosier noticed as well. His hand slid into the pocket of his robe and the faint buzzing that surrounded us vanished in an instant. I kept my voice calm and nonchalant as I said, "The third card represents hidden influences, the unseen conflicts and obstacles that you don't know about yet." I glanced down to see the image of a man and woman holding hands beneath a tree. "The Lovers upright. The unity of the lovers gives them confidence and strength. It's an empowering union. So that means some partnership is going cause you trouble."

Vablatsky stood over our table, nodding her head as she listened to our reading. Her presence meant that Rosier couldn't make some jab about how the cards spoke about me and what I'd done to Lily.

"The middle card," I continued, "represents the querent and your attitude toward the situation at hand."

Rosier shot me a meaningful look. I pretended not to notice as I stared down at the all too familiar image of a skeleton holding a scythe.

"Death upright. Generally, this card represents change or an important transition." My eyes raked over the bone-white face of death. "You want to change the current situation."

Vablatsky nodded her head before turning away and heading back to her desk at the front of the classroom. My gaze followed her billowing maroon robes as I longed for her to say that the period had ended and we all needed to pack up our belongings. Vablatsky, of course, said no such thing. She took a seat behind the mahogany desk and began flipping through some rolls of parchment.

"Fifth position," said Rosier, growing impatient. "What external forces influence you, Marlene?"

I stared down at the image of a man in red robes, holding a candle high above his head. "The Magician Reversed. The master of illusion. Someone may only be pretending to have your best interests at heart."

Rosier let out a quiet laugh. "Are you sure you placed the cards right? Shouldn't _you_ be the master of illusion? The friend pretending to have Evans's best interests at heart?"

I glanced down at the card before saying, "Or maybe you're the Magician."

"I'm not pretending to care about your best interests," said Rosier.

"But you are an expert at trickery and deception."

He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Or maybe," I spoke carefully, gauging Rosier's reaction with each word, "the Magician is Voldemort."

I could see the shutters go down behind his eyes as he blocked my words out. He smiled with his usual calm, but any warmth that might have been there before had vanished. "Perhaps. The shadow of You-Know-Who hangs over us all."

We stared at one another across the table. The cards spread across the table like wall between us. Slowly, my gaze dropped down to the familiar specter of death. Then, I looked over at the next card in the reading, which bore the image of three swords bound together by red thread.

"The sixth position," I said, "directs what the querent should do about the current situation. The Three of Swords reversed indicates that you've faced recent grief or loss. The card means that you shouldn't hold onto this loss, but learn to let go and move forward." I offered Rosier a sharp look. "Stop obsessing over your friends' scheming and move ahead to a new part of your life. Maybe it's time to find some new friends."

There was a bitterness to Rosier's smile. "Perhaps you're the one obsessing. This collaboration, the reason you became Marlene McKinnon, perhaps it's better to let go than continue on your current course. Because likely it'll end in heartbreak."

"The seventh card indicates the final result." I looked down at the final card. Similar to the Two of Wands, the card depicted a man, surrounded by three sticks, looked across fields at a mountain range. I knew what the card meant. I remembered the words from my textbook. Visions of photographs on a wall danced in my memory: Marlene's parents laughing, her brothers playing Quidditch on a hill, the McKinnon siblings dressed in matching knitted sweaters. My voice felt thick as I said, "The Three of Wands reversed. After setting out on a journey, you have not achieved the results you've hoped for."

Rosier's eyebrow quirked up and his head tilted slightly to the left. I could feel him searching my face. Then, Rosier leaned across the table and tapped the top of blue-painted mountain range. "The Three of Wands reversed also reminds you that, even if the end result is not what you anticipated, all your hard work was not for nothing."

Was he trying to cheer me up?

I dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came. This was Evan Rosier. Of course he wasn't trying to cheer me up. He wanted me to make a mistake. To waver and admit that his reading was the right one. Well, I'd be damned before I gave him the satisfaction.

I lifted my eyes from the array of cards and said, in steady tones, "You'll try to change your friends' actions, but due to external influences, you'll fail. Your friends will accomplish their goal. It's better to give up and move on rather than hold on to a lost cause."

Rosier's head jerked, as if I'd slapped him, but he recovered a heartbeat later. "Or the reason you switched those potions ingredients and sent Lily Evans to the Hospital Wing, this great end goal of yours will fail."

I couldn't speak. I knew that these were only tarot cards. They didn't mean anything. Or, I hoped they didn't mean anything. I needed to snap back at Rosier, reject his words, keep the game of never-admit-anything going. But a gut-wrenching horror had filled me, and I could only stare mutely at the reversed Three of Wands. _After setting out on a journey, you have not achieved the results you've hoped for_.

Vablatsky's husky voice cut through my thoughts. "Unfortunately, our time together today has come to an end. Remember to read the chapter on the Romany Spread before Friday's class."

I barely registered my surroundings as I shoved my textbook into the bag and bolted for the trap door. All I could see were the faces of the McKinnon family, smiling out at me from the wall behind Marlene's four-poster bed. Fail? I would fail? Not, it was only a tarot reading. I couldn't take it too seriously. The reading was for Rosier, anyway. It was about him and his friends. I couldn't let those words go to my head.

A firm hand grasped my forearm, and before I knew what was happening, someone began guiding me down the seventh-floor corridor.

"What?" I saw heavy-lidded eyes, a straight nose, and perfectly combed hair. "What are you doing?"

Rosier didn't even look at me as he practically dragged me towards the all-too-familiar broom closet. "We need to talk."

"You're going to tell me which one of your friends switched the ingredients?" I asked.

That wasn't worth an answer, apparently. Rosier flicked his wand, and I felt the familiar breeze pass through the corridor. His head jerked, and then he glanced behind him. I followed suit and, using the corner of my vision, spotted the two Ravenclaws, Stebbins and Johnson, watching us.

Rosier immediately released my arm, while I opened my bookbag. I rummaged around, shuffling the books about, before saying, a little louder than necessary, "Thanks for returning my quill."

"No problem," said Rosier. His voice carried down the corridor.

Under the eyes of our two classmates would probably have been the best time for me to ditch Rosier. But avoiding him just meant he'd jump me in the corridor later. I'd rather have my teeth pulled than spend another twelve hours in a broom closet under a Body-Bind curse.

We waited until Stebbins and Johnson were out of sight before heading to our usual broom closet.

"What's this about?" I asked, adding a good amount of impatience to my voice.

Rosier finished the last of his warding spells. His right arm dropped to his side, but he didn't put away the wand. Instead, with almost tired eyes, he turned to look at me. "Are you a Death Eater?"

"What?"

"You replaced Marlene McKinnon, who is friends with people known to be Dumbledore supporters, and attacked Lily Evans, a known muggleborn. What else am I supposed to conclude?"

My mouth opened and closed. I couldn't find words.

"I didn't think you could be," said Rosier, tapping his wand against his thigh. "Your support of muggles and your hatred of Death Eaters seems real, but perhaps you're a better actor than I gave you credit for."

"I'm not a Death Eater."

"Let me see your left arm."

I blinked. "What?"

Rosier held out his hand. I couldn't see how it would hurt, so I obediently lifted my left arm. He grabbed me by the wrist, fingers digging into the skin, and with his other hand rolled up the sleeve of my robe. I watched, fascinated, as he pressed the tip of his aspen wand against my forearm.

He murmured something beneath his breath that sounded vaguely like " _reveal_ ". When nothing happened, Rosier released my wrist and stepped back. "You don't have one."

It was only then that I realized he'd been looking for a Dark Mark. I stared down at the pale skin of my forearm before pulling down the sleeve of my robe. "I'm not a Death Eater."

"Not all of Voldemort's followers receive the Dark Mark."

My eyes narrowed. I wanted to ask how he knew that, but the answer seemed obvious enough. His father probably told him many things.

"Who do you work for?" asked Rosier. "Why did you take McKinnon's place?"

"I'm not working for anyone," I said, willing him to believe me. For once, I was speaking the truth.

"Why then? Why did you attack Lily Evans?"

"I didn't!"

"Don't lie." Rosier's upper lip curled in disgust. "I know it was you."

The broom closet felt small, too small. The two of us stood less than a meter apart, our heads bowed under the low ceiling. Rosier's face was devoid of expression except for the blaze of anger in his eyes.

I didn't know how to convince him. I knew no matter what I said, he'd go on believing I attacked Lily. It was the truth, after all. But how could I convince him that I wasn't a Death Eater, that I was here because Marlene had chosen me. I couldn't tell him outright. To admit anything outright felt like the breaking of a dam. Once I admitting to one thing, I'd admit to everything. I couldn't do that. Not to anyone, and certainly not to Evan Rosier. But surely there was a way.

"I'm not a Death Eater," I said again. "I'm not working for anyone besides myself, Marlene McKinnon. I only want to protect the people I care about."

"And sending Evans to the Hospital Wing protects the people you care about?" asked Rosier, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I didn't hurt Lily."

Rosier's head jerked. He knew I lied on that part. But the rest, Rosier knew enough to understand that the rest had been the truth.

"Why?" he asked. "Why did you do it? What do you hope to gain?"

I shook my head.

Frustration burned in Rosier's eyes, but after a moment, he took a step back and the emotions faded. "I hope you know what you're doing."

So did I.

* * *

I would've liked to have talked with Snape as soon as possible, but unfortunately, our schedules as well as our friend groups made it difficult to meet. We could barely exchange two civil words in the corridors without suspicious eyes following us, let alone hold an entire conversation.

Friday morning, on my way to the Great Hall for breakfast, Snape found me alone. I had been walking back from the Room of Requirement when Snape stepped out from behind an empty suit of armor. His face was pale as he glanced left, right, and behind before finally speaking to me.

"Are you free tonight?" he asked in a low whisper.

"After six."

"The third-floor corridor," said Snape. "On the right-hand side. Meet me there at seven tonight."

The description rang familiar in my head. Wasn't that where the Philosopher's Stone had been hidden? Of course, the Philosopher's Stone wouldn't reach Hogwarts until 1991. But the sudden reference to the _Harry Potter_ books threw me and I could only nod my head in mute agreement.

Snape's black eyes scanned the corridor once more before he walked past me as though we were strangers.

I had a hard time concentrating that day. I barely got any work done as I studied in the library with Lily, Dorcas, and Mary. Thankfully, Rosier didn't test me in Divination and the atmosphere was almost relaxing as we practiced the Seven Card Horseshoe Spread. However, in Charms, Professor Chen's lecture went over my head, and all my nonverbal spells went awry in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Then, in Ancient Runes, I managed to botch my translation so badly that Professor Entwistle asked me to stay after class.

Around and around my head spun, unable to focus on anything else, as I tried to figure out how to go about accusing the Slytherins of attacking Lily to Snape. Rosier hadn't given me any hints in our broom closet conversations, and I didn't know enough about the Slytherin students to know who was a believable culprit. Most likely, Snape wouldn't expect me to come up with a name right away. I could just have to play dumb and earnest, and hope Snape would give me enough information to run with.

With that cheerful thought, I made my way up to the third floor after dinner.

Helena met up with me on the Moving Staircases as planned. With her body turned invisible, she alerted me to her presence by announcing: "Regulus Black is still in the Great Hall with those dreadful friends of his."

"Anything interesting?" I asked, trying to look nonchalant as I spoke to thin air.

"Sorrel Burke has a wand up his bottom."

I bit back a laugh as the staircase joined with the third-floor corridor. Helena stopped speaking as I left the stairs and went in search of Snape.

It seemed that Snape had carefully selected a corridor with no eavesdropping portraits. There were also no broom closets to attract mischievous students, and it was a known hangout spot for the Bloody Baron. The ghost must have been haunting the Astronomy Tower currently, because the third-floor corridor was empty except for Snape. The thin boy sat on a stone ledge beneath a blue and red stained-glass window that depicted a wizard with a sword.

Snape's black eyes raised to mine when he heard my footsteps. There was no warmth in his gaze, and he only watched me with cold curiosity.

"Glad we finally got a chance to talk," I said. I dropped my bookbag onto the floor and leaned against the wall opposite.

"How's Lily doing?" asked Snape, not bothering with greetings.

"She's been holding herself together." In all honesty, Lily had been better than fine. She'd been unnaturally cheerful after returning to classes on Thursday. Not that I was going to tell Snape that. "I think she's more rattled than she's letting on."

Snape nodded, his mouth a thin, grim line.

"Has there been any word around the Slytherin common room about what happened?" I asked.

Snape shook his head. "Many of the students are complimenting the culprit for their creativity, but no one knows who it was."

"Or they do know and they're pretending not to," I said.

"Why would they pretend not to know?" asked Snape.

"In case there's a rat." I waved a careless hand in Snape's direction.

Snape frowned. "Edythe and John aren't usually careful."

I fought back a disgusted laugh. It was all too easy to picture Edythe Dovetail bragging to all Slytherin house about what muggleborn student she'd tortured that day. However, now wasn't the time to insult Snape's housemates. Instead, trying to look thoughtful, I asked, "What about Rosier? He's careful with me in Divination."

Snape's shoulders stiffened. Just like last time, Rosier was off limits for discussion.

It was better, I thought, to give up on mentioning Rosier for now. Keeping Snape on my side was more important. I leaned back against the desk and said, "It's not Rosier's style."

"It could be someone outside of Slytherin house," said Snape.

"Perhaps." I pretended to consider his words. Of course, I didn't want Snape to think it was someone outside of his house. I wanted him to distrust his fellow Slytherins. I wanted him to feel alienated from them. I wanted a wall to form between him and the future Death Eaters. That wouldn't work if he suspected it was someone outside of his house. I kept my tone casual as I asked, "Is there anyone in other houses you're suspicious of?"

To my surprise, Snape hesitated. He checked the corridor again for any students, then surveyed me quietly, before saying, "Persephone Rowle."

I opened my mouth but no sound came out. I, of course, knew Persephone Rowle, the Ravenclaw prefect. She was tall and elegant and had a natural gift for spellwork. A day couldn't go by without a professor praising her. She and Lily had a friendly rivalry of sorts and always spoke politely to one another. I couldn't picture her saying a bad word about muggleborns, let alone trying to harm one.

A cold child passed through my shoulder as Helena reminded me to respond.

"What makes you suspicious?" I asked.

Snape shook his head. "It could be her."

My eyes narrowed. So he didn't want to tell me. He wanted to throw her name out there and have me trust him blindly. Well, the point wasn't to get future Death Eater names from Snape. I wanted to befriend him. Pushing for details wouldn't do that.

"What about Goyle?" I asked.

"Simon?" Snape frowned. "He's not smart enough."

Well, that was a blunt dismissal. I fought back at laugh. It seemed that Simon Goyle had a lot in common with his son.

Snape didn't notice my barely suppressed laughter. He hunched forward slightly, his hands resting on the stone window sill while his dark eyes glared fiercely at the floor. "I thought it through over these past few days. I looked at them all, at my friends." He spat the last word. "It's not Edith and John's style to keep quiet. Rosier wouldn't do this. Cornelian talks big but doesn't have the nerve. Elise could do it. She's smart enough and malicious enough. Iain as well. He was oddly quiet in the common room after the incident."

In my head, I tried to connect all the names to faces. Cornelian Bulstrode sat two seats down from me in Charms class. He was a large boy with shaggy brown hair and a square jaw. Elise Flint was a tall, black-haired woman who hung around Dovetail, and Iain Proudfoot was a slender youth who was a member of the Dueling Club. Their faces flashed before my eyes as I tried to commit Snape's analysis of them to memory.

"So Elise Flint and Iain Proudfoot are our most likely culprits," I said at last.

"And Persephone Rowle," said Snape.

I bit the insides of my cheeks to stop myself from asking again what made Persephone Rowle so suspicious. "And Persephone Rowle. I think it'd be easier for you to investigate Flint and Proudfoot. I'll look into Rowle. She chats with Lily before Charms sometimes. I'll see if I can get something out of her."

Snape's eyes flashed with anger when I mentioned Lily, but he only nodded.

"We should keep meeting," I said. "To give each other updates. Does Monday and Thursday evening work?"

"We don't need to meet that often," said Snape almost instantly. "Thursday evenings should work."

My stomach dropped but I kept my expression casual. Meeting more often would be better; it would help me build a friendship of sorts with Snape. Still, I didn't want to push too hard too fast. "Then we'll meet here after dinner on Thursday next week?"

Snape nodded curtly. He didn't even bother to look at me as I pushed off the wall and picked up my bookbag from the floor.

I hesitated. I didn't want to leave with a begrudging goodbye. This wasn't about catching Lily's culprit. This was about befriending Snape. So, I gave him a thin smile and said, "We'll find them. Whoever did this to Lily, we'll find them and we'll make them pay."

At last, Snape lifted his gaze. His dark eyes met mine, and in a small, almost vulnerable voice, he asked, "Do you think she'll forgive me?"

"It'll take time," I said. "But, yes, I think she will. I'll help you. Together, we'll find a way."

For the first time, Snape looked at me with some warmth. He didn't say thanks, but I knew he was grateful for my help.

Perfect.

"See you next week," I said, and then I turned and started down the corridor towards the Moving Staircases.

It was a good start. We had a plan in place. I'd arranged to see Snape on a weekly basis. Step by step. These things couldn't be rushed.

"Persephone Rowle," repeated Helena's disembodied voice. "Do you think he's trying to place the blame on her?"

I pictured the good-natured girl who'd asked me earlier this week how Lily was doing and then shook my head. "If Snape's suspicious of her, then she must have expressed anti-muggle views."

"The Rowle family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight," said Helena thoughtfully.

"Sacred Twenty-Eight?"

"Cantankerus Nott's Pure-Blood Directory," scoffed Helena. "It lists the twenty-eight families who he believed to have kept their bloodlines untainted. You can bet your friend's family is in there."

There had been no mention of this Pure-Blood Directory in the _Harry Potter_ books, but I could imagine names like Malfoy, Black, and Lestrange on the list beside Rosier.

As we reached the Grand Staircase, I asked, "Can you keep an eye on Snape? I want to know what he does after meeting with me."

"Will you be in the Room of Requirement?"

"Of course."

Helena didn't say a word of goodbye, but I assumed she had left by the lack of response. I stepped onto one of the moving stairs and held the handrail as it glided across the hall.

It seemed things had gone well with Snape, but one could never be certain.

After reaching the seventh floor, I made my way through the familiar web of passages, deeper into the castle. I was about two turns away from the Room of Requirements when I heard voices.

"Aren't you having fun, Bottlebrush?" a sneering voice asked.

I stepped back against the wall, and ever so slightly peaked my head around the corner. Five boys stood about the corridor. In the candlelight, I could make out the green and silver ties of Slytherins.

Oh fuck my luck. Was the seventh floor actually a Slytherin hangout spot, and Rosier had neglected to tell me?

Bit by bit, as I took in the scene before me, the pieces began to fall into place. The four boys standing were all in Slytherin. I didn't recognize them, so they had to be sixth years at the most. The boy kneeling on the ground wore the blue and bronze tie of a Ravenclaw. I assumed he was Bottlebrush.

"We're having fun," said a second voice, this one was lazy and uncaring. " _Tergumis_."

I watched, open-mouthed, as a tall, thin-faced boy flicked his wand. Bottlebrush ground immediately let out a shriek. He started clawing at his left arm, fingernails digging into the skin.

At first, I didn't understand what the spell had done. Then, as Bottlebrush pulled back the sleeve of his robe, I saw that his pale skin had turned thick and leathery. Wrinkles formed across his forearms as the skin tightened, creeping up to his hands and fingers.

"Stop," cried Bottlebrush. "I was wrong! I was wrong! Just stop!"

"Someone will hear," said one of the Slytherin boys. This one sat to the back of the group, his head slightly turned away from the violence in front of him.

A red-haired boy pointed his wand at the howling Ravenclaw and said, " _Silencio_."

As if someone had hit the "mute" button, Bottlebrush's mouth then began to move soundlessly. He writhed on the ground, clutching his charred arm. The Slytherins ignored his pleas, laughing as the curse crept up his neck to his mouth. Only then did one of the boys perform the counter-curse.

Bottlebrush's skin returned to normal. He collapsed onto the stone floor, gasping for breath, tears in the corners of his eyes.

"'Sorry,'" scoffed the thin-faced boy. "Like a 'sorry' will make up for the fact that you claimed to be descended from the noble house of Burke."

Bottlebrush opened his mouth, as if to protest the accusation, but of course he couldn't utter a word in his defense.

"To think," the boy continued, "you would claim to share blood with Sorrel."

The Slytherin boy with thick, dark curls, who had to be Sorrel Burke, sneered at this.

The real Marlene McKinnon would probably jump out from behind the corner to defend the poor Ravenclaw boy. The real Marlene McKinnon had argued with Dovetail for years over this kind of cruelty. The real Marlene McKinnon cared about doing the right thing.

And if any of her friends were around to witness this, I would play the part of valiant Marlene. But there was no one to know. I could just turn around and walk away. This wasn't my business. No need to make more enemies. I was here to save Marlene's family, and that was all. I felt pity for the Ravenclaw boy, but this wasn't my business. I wasn't the real Marlene McKinnon. Too bad for him.

Sorrel Burke's voice was low and deadly as he continued to speak. "The noble house of Burke has existed since the age of Merlin. My ancestors were among the first students to attend Hogwarts. Marriages between witches and wizards have kept the blood pure throughout centuries. And yet you, _a filthy halfblood_ , dare claim to be descended from the line of Burke. You, _who snogs other boys behind the greenhouses_ , dare say that we share blood."

"Sorrel," the dark-haired boy spoke a word a warning that went unheeded.

"That a filthy lowlife like you even utters the name of 'Burke'—"

With one foot raised, ready to take a step away, I had stopped. I drew in breath, but my chest still felt tight. I was drowning in memories. Memories of a life I'd left behind. My older brother, his back pushed against the wall, his face pale, as school boys made crude gesture. My feet slamming on the concrete as I ran. Not my brother. Not him. My chest felt tight. Suffocating. It was suffocating.

Bottlebrush pushed himself off the floor, just high enough so that he could shake his head. protests were lost in the silencing charm.

Memories of holding my brother's shoulders while he cried. He had sat behind the rear wall of our house, his knees pulled up to his chest. He had tried to stifle his tears, worried that ma might hear through the open kitchen window. What could a little sister do to comfort her brother? I didn't know then. I still didn't know now.

"Rubbish like you might as well be a muggle," said the red-haired boy.

Sorrel Burke casually twirled his wand in his hand. His eyes were icy as he looked down on the whimpering Bottlebrush. "If I ever hear the name of my family pass through your mouth again…" His voice lowered to a hiss and gestured to the thin-faced boy beside him. "Wilkes here will make sure your name reaches the Death Eaters."

I needed to leave. There was no one to see me go, no one to think that was out of character for Marlene. I could walk away, take the long route to the Room of Requirement, and pretend this never happened. I was here to save the McKinnons. That was it. This wasn't my business.

"I imagine the Death Eaters will have fun with you," continued Burke. "I've heard stories, you know, about what they do to muggles, mudbloods, and—"

And then, he said that word. A word that I had heard thrown at my brother countless times before. A word that never failed to make his face pale and his hands shake. A word that always made my blood boil.

All sense of reason snapped.

Images of my brother's smiling face as he slipped the baseball cap on over my head flashed before my eyes.

I stepped out from behind the corner. My voice echoed through the corridor as I found myself asking, "What do you think you're doing?"

I immediately regretted it. Five heads snapped in my direction. Burke almost dropped his wand, while the red-haired boy's eyes narrowed, as if he recognized me but didn't know from where.

Wilkes scowled. "Keep your wand out of other people's business."

The red-head boy raised his wand at me—

I punched him in the jaw.

A clean, straight punch. Just like my ex taught me. I pivoted off my left foot. The knuckles of my middle and index fingers hit first. The impact, the force, everything about it was good.

The red-head stumbled backwards, his wand dropped from his grasp.

As I heard the clatter of the wand hitting the floor, I realized my mistake. Oh right, I was a witch now.

" _Crucio_."

The Unforgivable Curse hit me in the back, just below the left shoulder blade.

It began as a single, searing pain. A lone knife blade beneath my left shoulder. But then it started to spread, as if more knives had been inserted. The pain spread. It grew white-hot and started to shift, as if someone began twisted in the knives.

My legs gave out beneath me. I didn't remember hitting the floor, but I could feel my fingernails digging into the stone ground. I wouldn't die from the pain, right? I wouldn't. I couldn't die again. Not again.

Laughter swirled around me. I bit into my cheeks until I tasted blood. I refused to cry out. Even as I lay on the floor, my body writhing in pain. I refused to scream, refused to give them the satisfaction.

But the pain. Like a thousand white-hot knives being stabbed into my flesh and twisted. Over and over again. Overwhelming and endless. Not even dying hurt this much.

"Stop."

The single voice cut through the laughter, and immediately, the other three Slytherins stopped what they were doing. The pain in my body lessened, the unseen knives being removed one by one, as Wilkes turned to face the dark-haired boy who had remained silent throughout all the violence and cruelty around him.

Gritting my teeth, I lifted my head off the floor. There, sitting on the floor, his long legs sprawled out in front of him, sat a handsome boy with sleek, comb-over hair. His sharp facial features were familiar, though I couldn't immediately place where I'd seen them before. Then, bit by bit, the pieces fell into place. Before now, I had only seen him at a distance, but now I looked fully on the face of Regulus Black.

His gray eyes scanned my face before he looked up at Wilkes and said, "You don't recognize her? She's Rosier's Divination partner."

The effect of these words was instantaneous. Burke's shoulders stiffened, and Wilkes ended the Cruciatus Curse immediately.

The pain swiftly drained out of my body, and I lay on the floor, face down, gasping for breath. Over. It was over. I had lived.

"Hippogriff shit," said Burke. But even as he spoke, recognition colored his eyes as he looked over my face. He groaned. "Rosier, really?"

"I told you we should have left Bottlebrush alone," muttered Regulus.

I stared at the group of Slytherins. If this was Regulus Black, then the others must be his friends that I'd heard so much about from Helena. There was Sorrel Burke, who apparently had "a wand up his bottom." Then, the red-head would be Burton Madler, and the one who had cast the Unforgivable Curse would be Travis Wilkes.

Regulus got to his feet. He pointed his wand at me and then silently waved it in a half-arc. Immediately, my body felt warm and soft, as all the pain of the last few minutes faded away.

My body instinctively wanted to scuttle backwards until my back pressed against the wall of the corridor. To protect myself against these dreadful Slytherin, all of whom would undoubtedly end up Death Eaters. However, I refused to show such weakness. I carefully sat upright and kept my expression calm and casual. As if we were simply acquaintances meeting on the street and they hadn't tortured me mere seconds earlier.

Bottlebrush lay on the floor, not daring to move. His eyes met mine and he quickly looked away. It was probably for the best he continued to play dead.

Regulus extended a hand to me. "I'm sorry, McKinnon. It was our mistake." He spoke with the very posh accent that Sirius tried to hide. With a glance over at his red-headed friend, Regulus added, "Though you probably shouldn't have hit Burton."

Madler held a hand to the left side of his jaw as he gave me a reproachful stare. I hoped it hurt.

Regulus still had his hand extended to me. I regarded it carefully. If he'd been anyone else, I would've rejected it. But this was Regulus Black. The same Regulus Black who would destroy one of Voldemort's horcruxes. Even if he was piece of shit now, he would change. And I wanted to make that change happen sooner. So, I took the hand and let him help me to my feet.

"You tell Rosier about this," snapped Burke, "and I'll hex you into next week."

"Obviously," said Regulus, quickly cutting across his friend, "we would prefer if you didn't tell Rosier about this little incident. Rosier never wanted you to be dragged into some petty house quarrels."

So it seemed Rosier had people he didn't allow his housemates to touch. I was one of those people, and judging by Snape and Rosier's past words, Lily was one of them too. But why, I wondered, did his housemates listen to him?

"He'll probably find out even if I don't say anything," I muttered.

Rosier let out a laugh and glanced over at Wilkes. "Yes, he tends to be like that."

Did Regulus know about Rosier's uncanny ability to read facial expressions? He must have at least picked up that Rosier always knew things he shouldn't.

"We should go," said Wilkes.

"Good night, McKinnon," said Regulus with practiced politeness. He sent one long, almost agonized glance to the floor behind me. Then, he turned and followed his friends in the direction of the Moving Staircases.

I frowned and looked behind me. Bottlebrush still lay on the floor. At the sound of the Slytherins retreating footsteps, he lifted his head and turned his large, brown eyes to me.

I pushed back the memories of my brother and squatted on the floor beside Bottlebrush. "Anything permanent?"

He shook his head. He opened his mouth, but still no sound came out.

I didn't know the direct counter to the Silencing Charm, so I pointed my wand at Bottlebrush's throat and said, " _Finite Incantatem_ ," hoping that the general counter-spell was enough.

It seemed that it was. Bottlebrush coughed and, in a dry voice, said, "Thank you."

A wave of guilt passed over me, as I remembered I'd initially planned to look the other way.

"Are you…" Bottlebrush gave a dry cough. "Are you hurt?"

A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered the pain. Still, I managed a thin smile as I said, "It didn't kill me."

"Good. Did—" Bottlebrush broke off, his face pale. After taking a deep breath, he tried again. "Did you hear them?"

I opened my mouth as Sorrel Burke's words echoed through my head: _a filthy halfblood who snogs other boys behind the greenhouses_. My hands curled into fists. A fire raged in my head. I hadn't taken Helena's words about Regulus's friends seriously. She'd called them dreadful plenty of times, but I'd taken it to mean they were petty, rich, boarding-school brats. Even with the future Death Eaters, I hadn't seen them straight up torture anyone before now. The Ravenclaw boy before me overlapped with images of my brother holding back tears behind the house.

In the end, I decided to be honest. "Yes. I'm sorry." Before I could stop myself, I added, "I won't tell anyone, of course. But you should know, there is nothing wrong with you snogging boys or fancying boys or even shagging boys."

Bottlebrush stared at me in surprised. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out as if he was under the Silencing Charm again. At last, he managed a strangled, "Thank you."

"If they ever bother you again, let me know." I glanced over my shoulder and then added, "I'll set Rosier on them. Apparently, that works."

Bottlebrush nodded, though his eyes wouldn't meet mine. "I didn't think they would. They saw me and— It was awhile back. Last year. Why would they care about what happened last year? I thought all of them but Regulus had forgotten. But then, tonight, I was telling my friend that my grandma was a Burke but she married a muggleborn and then— I-I didn't think Regulus would—"

"It's okay," I said. My attention focused in on that last bit. At Hogwarts, students generally didn't use one another's first names unless they were on good terms. Why was this Ravenclaw boy using Regulus Black's name so casually?

Bottlebrush, however, was tearing up again, and I figured now wasn't the best time for an interrogation.

"Do you want me to walk you back to the Ravenclaw common room?" I asked.

Bottlebrush look up at me with wide, surprised eyes. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Please."

"No worries." I got to my feet and watched as Bottlebrush gathered his things with shaking hands.

I wanted to comfort him, to tell him again and again that this wasn't his fault. The boys, the ones who had hurt him and called him terrible things, they deserved all the blame. There were so many things I wished I had said to my brother. So many things I wanted this boy to understand. But in the end, the only words I could muster were: "If you ever want someone to talk to, come find me."

Bottlebrush slung his bookbag over his shoulder before sending me a nervous glance. "I didn't introduce— I'm Aaron Bottlebrush."

"I'm Marlene McKinnon."

As we started down the corridor, I spared one last glance to where Regulus had sat on the floor. It was if the image had been burned there. The image of him with his head slightly turned away, as if he hadn't wanted to see the violence unfolding before him. Perhaps, by pure luck, I had stumbled upon it. The path to Regulus Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me awhile to write this chapter. I spent a lot of time writing and rewriting it, because I want to do Regulus Black's arc well. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read and commented!


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